Ripple Effect
by E. an' E. Kaleidoscope
Summary: Alternate Timeline. Sometimes the smallest ripple, a whim, a feeling, a chance- can cause the greatest wave.
1. Chapter 1: Meddling of a Dwarf

DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Tales of Symphonia_, its characters, its plot, etc.

SPOILERS: Free use of information from the whole of the first game. References to second game may be noted in future chapters.

PAIRINGS: KratosxAnna. Eventual ZelosxLloyd. Other pairings TBA.

NOTE: This story is _not_ a novelization of the video game, but it _will_ go through the entire game.

CONCEPT: CessoResito and heartofShou

WRITTEN BY: heartofShou

_**Ripple Effect**_

"Drop a pebble in the water: in a minute you forget,

But there's little waves a-flowing, and there's ripples circling yet,

And those little waves a-flowing to a great big wave have grown;

You've disturbed a mighty river just by dropping in a stone."

-James W. Foley, **Drop a Pebble in the Water**

_**Chapter One**_**: The Meddling of a Dwarf**

Heavy boots pounded their way through unknown terrain.

On one hand, the red-haired man desperately tried to keep his eyes on the fleeing figures before him. The sight of that lone back, with the tiny wiggling form clasped tightly in her arms, gave him the strength to keep breathing. On the other hand though-

He sucked in a gasp as cold metal nipped at him. Growling a curse, he once more turned on his heel to face his opponents and do battle. The hilt of his own sword was a heavy- yet comforting- weight in his hand. "Noishe!" he called on ahead. "Get them out of here!" There was no more time for words as the indistinguishable Desians charged at him. He let his sword fly through air and flesh without hesitation. This was, after all, what his swordsman skill had originally been made for- protecting those he loved. And right now that label only applied to two people in the entire two worlds; two people that were right now depending on him more than ever.

A shrill- child's- cry split into the dark night, followed by an enraged- but helpless- scream, and something froze inside him. The last Desian body fell, but he now recognized it for what it was.

A diversion.

Of course they had known that such a small unit would have no hopes of defeating him. So they had sent these soldiers as decoys, a force just big enough to hold his attention while his family ran ahead blindly into an ambush.

And he had fallen for it.

There was not even enough anger to swear for all he felt was fear. Bloodied sword in hand, he swung around and raced through the trees with an ethereal grace. He wanted to desperately call out their names- _"Anna!" "Lloyd!"-_ But warrior's instinct stilled his tongue. If he was going to have any advantage over this new enemy, he could give no further clues to his own location.

Then, suddenly, his wife cried out, "Kratos! Please!" Her voice was hoarse and faint, but was carried over to his ears in pristine detail. Yet the very fact that she had called his name at all filled him with horror. His wife possessed a shrewd and intelligent mind. She knew as well as he the danger of revealing his identity. Also, the sound of her voice would only cause him to panic when he needed the coolness of mind to think. So, no, she would not have called out at all unless… unless…

_Lloyd_.

Kratos's fear and anxiety pooled and sharpened into a weapon he could use- rage. It had been four thousand years since he had been able to feel with this intensity. First love and now hate. The human nature in him, however, responded to it readily enough. In his mind hovered the sweet promise that if so much as a hair had been touched on either Lloyd or Anna, then Judgment would be delivered with glee.

He stopped at the edge of the trees to take in the scene. The ground continued on, bare, for a while before rounding off to a mound of rock just big enough to be considered a cliff. It was near this edge that his family had been captured.

Opposite of Kratos was Noishe, the gentle creature having been cornered by spear-wielding Desians. The dog-like protozoan could do little more than whine as it looked on, though it did growl at a Desian that dared tread too close. Another single Desian soldier struggled to keep a hold of a squirming three-year-old Lloyd, who was choking on his own wearied sobs, having tired out from what little tantrum he had been able to throw. Lloyd had only been handled with ill-intent once before, by a man from a group of would-be robbers. The experience had only lasted momentarily as Kratos had swiftly intervened and Lloyd been scooped back into his mother's safe arms. This new lack of protectors left the small child more than just a little bewildered.

It was Anna, however, who was in the most trouble. Splayed indignantly on the ground on her back, the strength of the woman's strong maternal fury of having her child torn from her showed in the fact that it took five trained soldiers to hold her down. Her eyes remained ever on Lloyd. An upright figure stepped forward delicately to stand at her head. Kratos growled, despite himself, upon recognizing the man to be Kvar. The man's beady eyes focused in on the EXsphere upon Anna's left hand.

"My dear little specimen," Kvar sniffed, tugging at a cuff, "that was _quite_ the merry chase you gave us." The half-elf actually managed to sneer with those thin lips of his. "I'll be sure to show you just how much I enjoyed it." His tone was edged with sharp annoyance that belied his anxiety. The Desian leader was desperate to retrieve the EXsphere before Yggdrasil cared to take notice.

The only notice Anna cared to give him was to spit on his boots.

Kvar quickly leapt away, as though she had thrown acid upon him. That was a good enough distance for Kratos, who had been waiting for his chance. He dared not wait longer.

"**Thunder Blade!"** he called, summoning a thick bolt of lightning from the sky to smite the ground where Kvar stood. After all, the best way to kill a snake was to cut off its head.

Unfortunately, a Desian soldier, who had spotted the attack from the shadows, took the blow for his leader. He gave a fearful scream, even as his insides were cooked, before charred remains fell to the ground. The sudden occurrence was sufficient enough to divert everyone's attention. Kratos, seeing no sense in hiding, stepped, silent yet intimidating, away from the trees.

His name was quickly murmured throughout the troops, reverent despite themselves. Whereas this only seemed to create a nervous tension all around, Kvar's nose pricked as though smelling something foul. It certainly wasn't the body of the man who had sacrificed himself; Kvar daintily stepped over that corpse. "Well, well, isn't this an unexpected guest?" the half-elf spoke flatly, conveying only sarcastic surprise.

Truth be told, Kvar had long had this nagging suspicion about Kratos's involvement in the abduction of his prize lab specimen, especially with the woman calling out _that_ name. Yet he had been hoping all along that he was wrong. Not for any particular feeling for the man, but because that just made things more politically difficult.

The blasted Seraphim was what had become tagged in the Desian camps as an "Untouchable". He and Lord Yuan- warriors that had been by Lord Yggdrasil's side since time out of memory- could have both set fire to the Tower of Mana and Lord Yggdrasil would still punish any poor bystander Desian for it instead. So, no, it would simply be wiser to stay away from making enemies of either Untouchable.

Even when the red-head had come to oversee Kvar's modest operation, the general had tried as much as possible to stay out of the Seraphim's way. Silent and stoic, Kratos was no less intimidating a force. It had been easy enough for the general to keep away from the angel's company and just let the man do as he wished. The man hardly talked, requested nothing of Kvar, and just seemed to hover around as a pair of blank, staring eyes. Kratos's main interest had been in the Experiment AO12 and the Desian general had preened with pride, more than willing to show off his achievement. Time went by and Kratos became a usual- if still unwelcomed- presence around the base. Then that one morning had come when Kvar had awoken and instead of news of an impending promotion, he had been told instead that Kratos had disappeared- and taken the experiment with him!

Five years he had played a cat-and-mouse game with these two. Somehow _always_ they managed to stay a step or two ahead of him. For the first two years, he had lost track of them before months later receiving a tip on their location. Their movements had been random and with no specific location in mind, which drove Kvar to the brink of insanity. What was the point of all this? Then, at last, the last three years, their movements had begun to slow. His targets began to stay longer in one spot, moving less frequently. Carelessness? His golden eyes darted quickly at the subdued child in his subordinate's grasp. Perhaps not.

A child? Kvar would have gagged if he had not been so refined. Now, he was not one to talk of a superior's taste, but a lab rat? Really now. Still, the corners of his lips twitched at the thought of handing over to Pronyma a child that naturally had the angel blood she so desired to have. It gave him a slight warming feeling and he decided it would be a good way to end his too-long-a chase.

Kratos did not bother smothering a warning growl. Almost lazily, he held his sword in Kvar's direction, knowing that the slow action alone was keeping the man's rapt attention despite himself. "Release them," he ordered, annunciating clearly. There was no need to raise his voice; all present heard him perfectly. "Then leave." Inwardly, he was glad that nerves did not prevent him from speaking steadily. His heart was still pounding away, but warrior's training kept him focused even when the most was at stake.

"Hmm," Kvar gave a gentile stroke along the tip of his chin, pretending to consider it. Timing. It was all about timing. Slitted eyes caught the faintest glimmer of silver in the forest behind Kratos, the slightest reflection of starlight- the signal. Kvar allowed himself a smirk. "I think not." He waved his hand dismissively- the go-ahead.

The next moment was a flurry of movement. As one, another group of Desian soldiers sprang from the foliage, throats echoing with the cries for battle. In the same instant, Kratos had single-handedly changed his grip so that even as he turned around to protect his back, the sword's edge was right and ready for the foes. So in the next moment, the cries became choked and gargled.

Three dispatched.

Five.

The blood was more and more. Yet still Kratos grit his teeth and heartlessly cut into another. Faster. He had to move faster.

Kvar, too, was aware of his shortage of time. In the midst of one breath, he turned on his heel and strode over to his men holding down the woman. "What are you waiting for?" he barked, his usually silky voice becoming coarse as his rigidly held composure was forced to drop in light of the circumstances. With sharpened temper, he grabbed his quivering side-guard- who seemed to have gone stupid with the butchering of his comrades- roughly by the forearm and handed him a dagger. "Get that EXsphere out," he growled throatily, a hiss stealing through his teeth. That said; he thrust the poor cadet forward and barked again as the man stumbled over his feet. "Get it out!"

Things were going to hell quickly.

The brat was screaming again. Nearly seething with aggravation, the Desian holding him was forced to nearly throttle the kid to keep him quiet. The screams choked down to irrepressible sobs. Such seemed to be the last straw for the dog as he charged at his attackers. It was a good show of bravado for the gentle soul. Luckily, it worked, mostly in part because the Desians became better preoccupied with Kvar yelling at them to keep Kratos at bay. Noishe charged at the one holding Lloyd and the Desian quickly decided that he had had enough of this mess. He dropped the boy and ran after his comrades to join the fray. The shivering Lloyd whimpered into Noishe's white fur as the creature tried to comfort him. However, that small victory was eclipsed by the eruption of shrill screams.

Using the dagger his commander had forced upon him, the Desian had quickly followed his general's train of thought of how to get the EXsphere out. Settling beside his comrade responsible for holding the woman's left hand down, he promptly set to work. The goal was simple: get the special gem out. All soldiers had been briefed on this before setting out. Due to special circumstances- Kvar didn't care to go into details-the EXsphere had to be taken out of a _living_ body with the limb still attached. (A sneer and full leering of those narrow, hallowed eyes implicated the catastrophic consequences that befall any failure to adhere to those rules.) With those sorts of restrictions, there was only one thing left to do: carve the thing out.

Anna could no longer hold back the screams of agony as she felt the knife slice between the cool gem and her flesh. The men holding her down tightened their hold accordingly as her body convulsed strongly, torn between the twin instincts to both thrash and break loose of her captor's hold and the base desire to curl into herself defensively. The Desian hissed through his teeth as he felt the dagger go clear through the other side and he had to shift his grip so that his fingers would not slip on the hot, pooling blood. With the incision made, he carefully started sliding the blade around the circumference of the gem like one would to carve a pit out of a fruit. It was slow work since the body's natural tremors made it difficult to keep a steady hand, but he dared not hurry lest he be careless.

The hinges of Kratos's composure and restraint fell apart at those horrid sounds. "Anna!" he screamed, distracted enough that his blow merely grazed a soldier in the arm, and the Desian hissed in pain and surprise as he merely fell to his knees, grasping the injured limb. Desperation made him merely shove the standing foes out of the way, aching to be by his beloved's side. "Anna!" The Desians seemed to be further fazed by the fact that even as they cut at him, he did not falter in his step. Wearied and shaken, they soon just stepped aside to let him pass. For the short time they were able to delay proved to be all it took.

Screams choked into a strangled gasp that was overshadowed by Kvar's sudden bark of triumph. The Desian general nearly preened as his guard quickly dropped the dagger and picked up the gleaming jewel. Getting to his feet, the Desian hurriedly wiped what blood he could off the prize, a rhetorical action as his red soaked gloves seemed to only besmear the object further. Kvar sneered and quickly snapped the prize out of the clumsy man's hands. Crooning, he cupped the thing gently in both palms and the royal blue EXsphere glimmered apathetically in his hold. "At last," the general breathed a deep release. His exaltation was further expressed in chuckles that gradually hummed away as he once more adapted a gentlemanly posture. Even ignoring the red speckling his boots, he turned to announce the triumph to his men.

Boiling with rage, Kratos once more tightened his grip on his sword. The gleam in Kvar's eyes as he stared him down deserved to be eradicated. Yet both men were distracted and turned as one, paling as they gazed on, to see a once still female body shudder with choking gasps and shudder and shudder and shudder....

* * *

Dwarven Vow Number 86: One who 'gets' will not be found sitting around 'wanting'.

Such had been added by Sir Gwry of the Nightash, who, at the time, had meant it as a tribute to his greatest victory, but dwarves had since reinterpreted it to fit a theme they enjoyed most: profit. Hence why masters would often be found quoting it to their apprentices- who by then would know all Dwarven Vows by heart as any dwarf worth his beard would- in a lesson to not be picky about customers. Despite a generational bred discriminatory view on other species, dwarves were generally accepting of any and all kinds of money.

Still, it was this Dwarven vow in particular that had settled in an adolescent Dirk's mind. Though most other dwarves had figured that since elves had rudely invited themselves over, the world had mostly gone down the pipes, Dirk wasn't so sure. This was not out of any particular feeling for the other species that had taken over, but the idea that there was a market out of Dwarven caves that had yet to be exploited. Boyd Irving, Dirk's father, had scoffed at his son's suggestion.

"Perhaps humans have by now come up with the concept of money," Boyd had admitted grudgingly after much prompting that after so many centuries, humans had probably moved past the concept of bartering and onto more "advanced" economies. Still, moving aboveground seemed to be more trouble than it's worth. "A dwarf is supposed to be in rocks and minerals. Living in trees and grass, under an open sky... it unmakes you, son." Here Boyd had shook his head sagely and stroked his full, white beard. He had long been upheld by the dwarves as one of great wisdom and respectability. Possessing unparalleled skills at smithery, an honorable mate, and excess cash to spare, Boyd's one misfortune seemed to be having a son that was more interested in producing goods instead of grandchildren. Still, his only son was young and among dwarves, such was not _too_ much of a disappointment.

After mulling it over for a great deal of time, Dirk found that the idea of good money seemed to outweigh the inconvenience of bad company and with the stubbornness of all dwarves, bid his family farewell and set off.

At first it had been somewhat like an adventure. There had been the moon, stars, sun, grass, trees, waterfalls, and flowers. Then, of course, had come the gnats, cold winds, dust storms, and nosy woodland critters. Yet watching a mosquito try to suck blood out of leathery Dwarven skin had been somewhat amusing. It also hadn't taken long for him to get quickly acquainted with folks of the human sort. (Apparently elves at this time were considered rare and exotic, even though Dirk had sort of deduced that no one had even so much as _seen_ one in ages.)

Humans- Dirk was somewhat surprised to find- seemed to have developed prejudices of their own. Despite being the majority race, the general inherent weakness of humans seemed to have made the species increasingly paranoid, even against one another. Anything outside the norm was met with distrust and sometimes even derision. Dirk eventually passed it off a secondary survival skill, in addition to the ability of fertile breeding. To each their own evolutionary attributes...

Still, it sometimes got old- the looks and whispers that would accompany him in whatever village he wandered. Not that he was particularly worried about being hassled. Any upstart young pups looking for easy targets were easily corrected by Dirk's great hammer. After all, as Dwarven Vow number 99 stated: "Easier separated is Tethe'alla from Sylverant than a purse from its dwarf." (As instated by the great hero Sir Verntrem of the Soles.)

Years had gone by and eventually he had decided to settle by a quaint town of Iselia. Though annoyingly close to a vile Human ranch, Dirk had liked its excess gald (the money unit humans had apparently decided on) and the privacy he could find. He would have to build his own home, away from the town, but that suited him fine. Yet despite the fact that he would not even be dwelling within the town limits, the mayor had still scuffled over and huffed that Dirk still had to register for taxes.

(_That _had been an odd looking man. His white hair had been combed over from the back of head to hide an otherwise severely balded scalp. Sometimes there was just no understanding humans. After the man had left, Dirk had- a bit sulkily- pulled at the barely receding and fully brunette strands atop his head. For a dwarf to mature, he must first lose the adolescent hair atop his head and wait for his hormones to turn a young beard into a full, white one. With not so much as a single pale strand, it was enough to make one nervous of people being aware of his youth.)

"One dwarf then?" the scribe had asked, pen poised above the yellowed paper of the town record. The young man in full, white, religious garb held Dirk's rapt attention, not because the dwarf thought this errand particularly important, but because he couldn't help but wonder how the man managed to talk when it looked like he had to continually pucker his lips.

"Yes," Dirk shook back into himself and answered, "that's right."

"Only one?" the scribe rose an eyebrow and puckered considerably.

Dwarven Vow Number 8: Lying is the first step to thievery. (As Kommandant Jeof suitably discovered.) Yet like any group of intelligent beings, dwarves had loopholes. A dishonest dwarf was a social outcast. A sarcastic one, on the other hand...

"Ah," Dirk had sat back and stroked his (brown) beard thoughtfully. "Well, we'll have to see about that, won't we?" He winked as he had seen humans do, trying to show that he was trying to share an inside joke. "I'm just a young dwarf trying to make his way in the world. Need to settle myself down proper before I start thinking of... _those_ kinds of things, no?" The scribe paled considerably. "Yes, a wife... child... Those might come later." Not lies. Not technically. Just a discussion about open possibilities, and who could tell the future? Still, no need to mention that Dirk found no reason to give up his solitude as of yet, even if he could find a mate that would give up the underground.

The scribe swallowed audibly. "I'll be sure to make a note of it," he spoke finally, making ink scratches in the great book and then Dirk was dismissed.

Time had passed and Dirk had built his home and started up a slow business of his own. Right now his life seemed to be moving so slowly, compared to what it was before, like a stasis. It would take time, he knew, for his business to grow and the gald to come in, but for now, there was nothing to do but wait. Yet that Dwarven Vow Number 86 echoed in his head.

"_One who' gets' will not be found sitting around 'wanting'."_

Dirk shook his head to clear it. It got too easy to get lost in thought on these journeys home. With nothing but a dark night, thick woods, and a steady path before him, there was not much else to do but get caught in wonderings of yesterdays. As close as he knew the Desian base to be to his path home, in the midst of the dark forest at night, entities such as the Desian forces and the stuffy Iselia village seemed so far away. Tilting back his head to take in what star littered sky he could see through the entwining branches, Dirk mused that in the grand scheme of things the ventures a single dwarf must not amount to all that much.

He was struck suddenly from his philosophy by the sound of several screams followed almost instantaneously by a thundering rumble. The dwarf stuck still in his steps, bewildered by the noise that had pierced the previously quiet night. The Desian base was not exactly known for its tender loving care, but even so, shrieks like that were uncommon. And that sound... He shuddered as though the echo still reverberated within his bones. That couldn't have been human or even elven for that matter. Some animal then.

Common sense dictate that he keep on the path, head home and not get entangled with anything that was capable of causing _that_ sound. It wouldn't even be difficult; for millennia, dwarves had made isolationism an intricate part of their culture. Even back and before the elves had descended from the stars, the dwarves had kept themselves absorbed with their mountains, treasure, and trade. The other races- or the few among them that bothered to remember anything about dwarves- usually held it in common that dwarves, seeing themselves outnumbered, had been defeated and subsequently driven into the mountains. Such was laughably untrue. Dwarves, growing increasingly annoyed with their new neighbors, had exiled themselves and withdrawn underground, comfortable in their knowledge that when the time came they would be able to emerge and take control once again. Keeping to one's own business was second nature to a dwarf and probably one of the reasons the race had lasted as long as it had. It was one of the reasons a dwarf like Dirk could survive alone out in the world, far from his native magic womb. Live and leave well enough alone.

It was not a much further walk to home. His above-ground house lacked the live-in feel that would make it a home, but a warm fire and some warm drink... He could recline in a chair, stare out at the stars, and lazily drift into sleep...

_Dwarven Vow #33:_ _A chance not taken- for better or worse- is a chance regretted._

_'_As King Vardyn wrote down in his 680th year, the last year of the Bomburian Age, the honor being due to-'he allowed his mind to continue the automatic recalling of the Vow in an effort to distract himself as agile feet glided across untrodden forest floor. This was not out of any sort of fear for himself for he always carried a weapon on hand and whatever was out there would not detect him anyway. Ironically enough, not even an elf could move more quietly through a forest than a dwarf. Even the best of predators wouldn't notice if Dirk walked two feet beside them. He bore the heavy, solid weight of his ax in his hand all the same.

Sensitive ears guided him in the right direction for though there were no more screams, heavy grunts and the pounding of something hard against the ground grew louder as he drew closer... to whatever it was. The forest gave way to a sudden clearing and Dirk, remaining hidden in the borderline foliage, could see why. The thunderous clamor he had heard earlier had apparently been the sound of the earth giving way; the entire face of cliff had been wiped off, its carnage spewing into the woods below. Dirt, rocks, and upturned rocks lay everywhere, but that was not all that was spread about the mangled earth. Partially buried in the newly crumpled soil and almost as much covered in bruises and blood as it was with filth lay a creature of some sort, one of a species that Dirk could not even begin to guess at. Its soiled white and green-striped fur added to its patheticness as its ears hung limp and tired. However, the brightness in its eyes and its swaying tail proved that it was still very much alive. Despite the fact that Dirk should have been well kept from any view, it seemed to catch sight of the dwarf and whined quietly. Cautious- for an injured animal could prove more vicious than a healthy one- Dirk crept forward slowly, pity stirring his heart to at least inspect the poor thing.

It made no threatening move and he obligingly returned the flavor. Instinctively he rested a callused hand upon its nose and heard the thing breathe in his scent. If this thing had any Earth magic in it at all, it would recognize Dirk for what he was. Sliding his hand over a bit, the dwarf could feel a belied smoothness in the fur. This was not some wild animal, but a thing well cared for. A pet of some sort? The creature trembled at his touch and Dirk could hardly blame it with the pain it must be feeling. His one hand continued its inspection and when he came to the neck, he breathed a sigh of relief. Not broken. "Take heart, whatever you are," he muttered as he continued his examination. "You might live yet. Although I marvel at your misfortune to be unlucky enough to be caught in _that_." Unburying the creature he found that of its four legs, one was in bad shape although with any luck not beyond mending. He had just come up with a diagnosis that some of the ribs might have been bruised when the beating noises sprung up. Startled, he sprung up from where he was kneeling next to the foreign creature, the poor thing whining again. It made some motion to get up, presumably to get away from whatever was making the racket, but Dirk quickly put down his hand to still it. The beast could not afford worsening its injuries. It whined again, but obeyed Dirk's firm touch. Still, Dirk needed to find out what it was if he didn't want to get eaten. There was always some stupid creature out there who thought it might be able to chew through Dwarven meat.

Peering over what little cover the landslide had provided, Dirk peered into the darkness to see yet another strange sight. Bodies were strewn about the undergrowth, ones who were not as fortunate as the monster he had found. Some were merely contorted in unnatural ways, their twisted limbs giving clear evidence to the terrible way they had died. Others, however, looked as though something had taken a bite out of their torsos or legs and had promptly spat it out. Dirk's best guess for the culprit was the strangest creature of all.

Unlike the animal-like beast, this terrible thing was completely unlike anything Dirk had ever heard of. It was enormous, more than twice the height of any man, and its great body was supported with powerful hind legs, much alike in structure to a bird or raptor's. Up from its body sprung a wiry neck with a bulbous thing for a head. Thick, web-like veins threaded all over atop the skin, adjoining at the center of the head with the core being a single, illuminating eye. The whole lower portion of its head opened a closed to display a powerful jaw with rows of small, but very effective teeth. On the whole, it was ugly and horrific to look at, but Dirk could not look away.

It lay chest down on the ground, an odd position given the blood pooling from the part of the body. Very much in pain, the shivering would give way now and again to frenzied thrashes and with these bursts of energy, the thing would snap at anything close by, any unfortunate corpse that lay close enough for it to grab. Whipping its head from one side to the net, it occasionally caught something, biting into the flesh deeply. If it was hungry, as starving as it seemed to behave, it was not able to enjoy its prey for with a holler of torment, it would let go of the carcass. Its raving behavior continued as Dirk discovered that the beating noises were the sound of it pounding itself against the earth, particularly its head. No matter how many wounds it gave itself, nothing satisfied it. Each strike caused it to cry out in pain but even as it trembled in mid-air, it would enforce its next blow even harder.

This was the behavior of something that desperately wanted to die.

At last it could bear it no more and once again to lay quivering on the ruined soil. Its heavy pants, choked with the blood filling its lungs, proved that the abomination would soon get its wish. Not wishing to see any more, Dirk steeled his heart and prepared to turn around. It would be best to attend to the beast he could save and get as far from this place as possible. Just as he was mid-way in his action, he realized that the gasps were not just releases of air, but that there were words in them too. A new sort of horror struck into his bones as he turned back and deciphered as best he could.

_**"Help... Oh, please... Someone... Help...Him..."**_

A sound that echoed somewhat of a choked sob cut off whatever came after as the thing began to cough harshly. Dirk could barely believe it; surely his mind was playing tricks on him. But it was true. The thing had spoken, clear Common no less. Dear Mercy, had this thing been human once?

Feeling incredibly foolish but unable to help himself, Dirk stood, taking care to maintain his distance. Yet even after he could think of nothing to say, nothing sensible to ask it. There were no Dwarven Vows to help guide in this. Completely lost, he stood staring until the thing caught sight of him, or so he thought as it fixed its one on him. Confirming his suspicions of intelligence, it stilled itself, keeping low to the ground: a defensive, but submissive, position. What would it ask him? To kill it, perhaps? He probably already should have, having seen its display of utter suffering. But a jaded aspect wanted to hear it talk, to confirm that this anthropomorphic monstrosity had truly spoken.

Gasping for breath, the thing managed to murmur, _**"Who...? ...Who?"**_

Standing firm, his eye watching every move the thing made, Dirk understood the question and replied, "Dirk Irving, a Dwarf. What do you want?" He hefted his axe in both hands, a grasp he did not necessarily need, but it was for gesture's sake. He was waiting for it to ask.

The monster spasmed suddenly, its head striking the ground. Dirk started a little, but stood his ground when he saw the thing made no move forward. It was also in that instant that he saw that the thing's left hand alone remained still, remaining closed in a gentle grip even as the rest of the body trembled. He wondered briefly about it before the creature stilled and moaned and called to him.

_**"Please...Please..." **_it begged.

"Name your task," Dirk nodded solemnly. He would give no promise to complete it, for such a promise would have to be kept regardless. However, he still wanted to know what the thing had to say before he died. "What is it you want?"

The beast shuddered, its breathing slowing. Perhaps his services would not be needed... He held up his axe swiftly as, instead of answering, the thing slowly brought forth its left hand, oddly dragging it along the ground instead of lifting it to strike. Dirk focused on it, but his senses were left open to any movement coming anywhere. He did not want to be caught by surprise. Yet the creature made no hidden moves, just simply brought its curled hand before Dirk. Its eye seemed to take him in for a long time and Dirk nearly held his breath in anxiety, unsure of what was to happen next. With a sigh that was nearly of relief, the hand slowly uncurled, one clawed finger after another, before its precious treasure was revealed before the dwarf, who marveled at what he saw.

So ordinary and even more out-of-place for it, a small boy lay slumbering in that huge palm. He was a young human, but he looked even tinier in the monster's grasp. Caught off guard, Dirk lowered his axe and stepped forward for a closer look. He was relieved to see that the boy was indeed breathing, calmly and steadily, caught up in dreams. There were some scratches and a bruise here or there, but compared to the carnage that lay all around, the boy seemed particularly untouched. Before Dirk knew it, his free hand reached forward and brushed back soft locks of brown, confirming the bewildering notion that the boy was indeed real.

The thing spoke again, more calm and composed that the raving monster he had seen earlier. _**"My name..."**_ it gasped, still straining for air. However, it was determined to continue, to speak as clearly as it could. _**"My name...is Anna. I am this boy's mother..."**_ Impossible, and yet it must be true! _**"Please... take Lloyd as far from here as you can. They will find him... They will find him and-" **_A new- or perhaps old- distress caught up with it- her- and she shook again.

Dirk forced himself to speak. There was not much longer for questions and he had to take advantage of what time he had. "Who? Who is this boy in danger from?" He had a guess already; the most quietly and hidden despised of all...

_**"The Desians..."**_ Anna confirmed. _**"They will try to find him... to kill him... and all for that cursed EXsphere..."**_

"EXsphere?" Dirk interrupted, urging for an answer even as the once-woman coughed. She was incapable of saying anything at the moment though. Frustrated, Dirk caught ear of the other creature's whines. He looked back over, an admonishing look prepared on his face should the silly beast think it was suddenly capable of moving. The thing had stayed obediently still- he was pleased to see- only its head looking over its shoulder, watching him. Their eyes met for a moment and it was almost unnerving the intelligence that shone through those dark eyes. Then, with uncanny deliberance, it shifted its gaze over to a spot beside Dirk. Following the line of sight, Dirk looked and spotted, almost completely covered by soil and roots, a shiny blue gem. Hurriedly, he walked over to it and lifted it from the dirt. It seemed as though all the dirt and grim of the world could not extinguish its rich glow. "This," he asked, as he walked back over in front of the- in front of Anna, "This is what you were talking about?" An almost rhetorical question, he reflected, his mouth in a grim line. Although any dwarf worth his or her salt could distinguish any type of jewel over another, one could not go through the training he had in dealing with EXspheres and their shady business without recognizing an EXsphere upon sight. There was something about this one though that did not feel like others he had come in contact with; he could not immediately ascertain as to why.

The once-woman hissed as her one eye took in the sight of it. The glow of the eye flickered red for a moment. _**"Yes..."**_ she said, pausing to take a breath and then continued quickly, _**"You must hurry. Take it and the boy away, quickly. Those who seek them must not find them.... Never, ever..."**_

Dirk promptly pocketed the EXsphere, resolving to ponder its queer distinction later. Slipping his axe into its holder, he strode forward and awkwardly gathered the child into his arms. As family-oriented as dwarves liked to think themselves to be (what with taking immense pride in hordes of children and grandchildren), Dirk had never quite got around to getting himself comfortable with the notion of a family. So focused on business ventures was he that any notion of marriage and child-rearing had been shifted way, way down in priorities. He supposed that this might be the one instance that such knowledge might come in handy, but amended the thought with the heavy feeling that this one instance was going to be followed by many, many instances. (If there was any fairness in fate, however, he would never have to admit it to his parents.) Still, as the boy's warm body settled into his hold, the small head falling back on his chest, just under his beard, Dirk grudgingly admitted that he might stumble his way through it after all. _Lloyd_... He mentally cursed as he realized that he was in serious danger of getting attached.

* * *

Seeing her son gently held in the stranger's embrace, Anna murmured one last phrase: an apology or perhaps a wish... but it ended with a name. Lacking the strength and breath to say it aloud, it was hers to keep for all of time. With one small shudder and her sigh, she lay still and suffered no more.

* * *

Kratos was running again, but more desperate than before. The Desians who had not fled with Kvar had all met their end either on his blade or by magic. Not even hoping to escape their fate, they had fallen upon him, forcing him back into the trees. His mind had lost all sense of composure; his spirit not even allowed the time to react to what had happened just moments before. Like an avalanche, it was all uncontrollable events, leaving him as helpless as a bystander, but he was not even allowed the innocence of conscience like a mere witness would. Deprived of all civilized thought, his reaction came down to extreme panic.

His goal: to get to the bottom of the cliff.

A moment and eternity later, Kratos was retracing his steps as fast as he was able. There was the clearing, with Desian corpses still present. He did not spare them a moment's thought, but instead ran to where the earth had given way. As effortlessly as breathing, he confidently stepped out over the edge and unfurled a pair of shimmering wings. Steadily he drifted down to the ground below, not the slightest bit dizzy from all the air around him. His eyes had long ago shifted to be able to see in the pitch dark and he used the height to scan the darkness below him. After a few seconds of roving, crimson eyes picked up what he was looking for. It would have been impossible- had anyone watched- to see the slight awkwardness of his landing, but his urgency caused him to stumble all the same. Heedless of his lack of usual grace, Kratos went immediately to the side of his metamorphized wife and found that despite his feverent hopes, his worst fear was true.

Anna was dead, and there was no way of bringing her back.

Kratos was unable to hold back a choked cry, but quickly focused on something else before grief could overwhelm him. Lloyd. He had to find Lloyd. Shaking, he turned, taking in the whole area, and sharpened his vision further, looking for the slightest detail. All around were half-eaten corpses and ruins of a destroyed landscape, but no sign of a three-year-old child. Refusing to give up, Kratos looked again and again, desperate to find his little boy. As longer moments passed, he finally flung out the name he had been inwardly chanting the whole time, "Lloyd! Lloyd! Lloyd, answer me!" He called it again and again, not giving a damn if even Yggdrasil himself heard him. Where was his son?

_"Lloyd! Lloyd, where are you?" he had called, peering behind the various trees. The boy had been before him just moments before. How far could he have scurried off? But the silence got longer and longer and Kratos was finding it harder to find paternal worry. "Lloyd!" he called a little more fiercely. "Lloyd, come out right now." His entire anxiety was completely erased when his sharp ears finally picked up on the sounds of smothered giggling. Frowning with his own sheepishness, he promptly peered behind the neighboring trunk and there indeed was his son. _

_Seeing he had been caught, Lloyd promptly jumped out crying, "Boo!" The brunette grinned up at the tall man frowning down at him. Children had always been intimidated by Kratos's height, but Lloyd always seemed to get such pleasure at nearly leaning over backwards to looks his father in the eye. "Did ya scare?"_

_"A little," Kratos admitted, ruffling the boy's hair, making him hum in pleasure. He kneeled down to look straight at his boy. "But next time, Little Aurion, you _come_ when I call, understand?" _

_"Ok..."_

"Lloyd! Lloyd!" Kratos's last conscious thought was endlessly crying out that name, even as shank down, down onto his knees and eventually collapsing on the ground into a darkness bleaker than this most horrid of nights.

* * *

"You thrice blasted animal!" Dirk cursed- not for the first time- as he tugged- again- on the mangy... whatever kind of green and white creature this was. The thing had been hesitant to follow him at first, but upon seeing the boy in his arms, he had had no trouble in leading the animal- until now. Its ears had perked up and upon hearing _something_, had started to whine. With an almost torn look on its face, the creature never hesitated in limping after Dirk, but it also did not cease its calls for the dwarf's attention. 'Must be spooked,' was Dirk's guess and he continued to urge the beast forward. Desians never went anywhere without a leader and judging from the lack of regalia Dirk had seen among the bodies, it would be a safe guess to assume that more troops were located nearby. Worst come to worst, he would be forced to go on without the injured animal, but the very idea went against so many vows, that it made Dirk twitch uncomfortably. "Come on! Come!"

The creature suddenly stopped still, its dark eyes peering back at Dirk. It was like those times before, when the animal was trying to tell Dirk something or so it seemed. Again, it wished terribly for the dwarf to understand. However, dwarves did not possess a reputation for getting along swell with forest critters for a reason. Dirk could only guess so much on his own. He tugged insistently at the thing's mane with a hand he managed to free. "If you possess any sense at all, you will _move_." The animal continued to stare at him, not making a sound. After a long moment, it took one step forward and then stepped back yet again, giving one last whine. The dwarf got the feeling that it was asking him to make a choice. "Well, what do you want? To go back? Hm?" He meant it sarcastically, but the creature's pointed stare drained the humor from it. The thing _had_ to be joking. To go back was as good as suicide. However- an annoying part of Dirk's conscience pricked at him- the thing had been eerily right before. The weight of the still sleeping boy in his arms weighed even heavier in Dirk's mind. If it was just him, he might have risked it but it had been the mother's dying wish for him to take care of the boy. Could he earnestly do that when he might be walking into danger?

* * *

Teal eyes narrowed as the man possessing them watched a wearied Kvar return to the Iselia Base. He was hardly surprised to find the Grand Cardinal come back with only a fraction of the men he had left with. Kratos had apparently not made their task easy. His dislike for the general and the rage on the half-elf's face motivated him to speak. "What is this, Kvar?" the blunette jibed, crossing his arms so as to hide his pale hands beneath his cloak. It was a cold night. "Did the winds of victory forget to blow in your sails?"

The blonde actually had the nerve to snarl at him, even going so far as to bare teeth. Hair mussed and dirt dotting his clothing, Kvar made an usually untidy picture. "Good evening, Lord Yuan," the general greeted through clenched teeth. "Once again you... _honor_ us with your presence."  
Yuan dismissed the rudeness and casually flicked his tied back aqua hair behind his shoulder. He would let the attitude slip this one time. "One would think you went to war," he observed, glancing to see the soldiers support each other as they limped their way into the base. Forcystus would probably throw a fit- out of Yuan's ear range, naturally- about having to cater to so many soldiers not his own. The man would have to live with it for now; after the next night or two, Kvar and his men would be returning to their own base. "Incredibly to think you were only out to take care of a mere _human_ woman."  
Kvar stopped in his tracks and turned sharply on his heel, glaring at his superior. Even in his rage he could not bring himself to speak out against an Untouchable, but the night had pulled even his icy cold composure to its limits. "It was _not_," he tried to even his breathing, to put together the most respectful reply he was capable of at the moment, "just a woman."

"Oh, you're right," Yuan snorted, fiddling with a cuff. "There was also a child there, wasn't there?"  
Kvar's beady, black eyes gleamed, "My Lord-"

"To get to the point," the blunette interrupted sharply, "did you or did you not succeed in your quaint little venture?"  
The Lieutenant General straightened himself, his true nature getting the best of even all of his aggravation. "If my quest was nearly as quaint as his Lordship believed it to be," a gloved hand slicked back the strands of platinum blonde, every one falling right back into place, "then I doubt very much that one as important as yourself would have taken an interest in it." The trademark smirk was back flawlessly as though it had never been discarded.  
Such a remark hit dangerously close to something Yuan would rather not think about. However, his motives had less to do with the Grand Cardinal and his political agenda, than it did with his old companion. "I can honestly say, Kvar," he retorted flatly, "that I care as much for what you do I as do for what I had breakfast the past day." It was reprimand and they both knew it. Kvar knew better than to push his luck, especially after his night had been so disastrous, but he could not help grinning like a fool all the same.

"Oi! Kvar!" Their stare-down was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a peevish Forcystus. One of his arms, which had been replaced awhile back with a giant gold cannon, swung clankily at his side, adding to the impression of an irked brat. His one red eye focused only on the blonde and glared to its heart's content. "You have some nerve!" He stopped in front of the Grand Cardinal and clenched his one fist. "Do you have _any_ idea of how much resources your and your little 'project' are taking up? You're not the boss of this place, you know!"

Kvar snorted condescendingly and stuck his nose in the air, giving off this air of indulgence. "You're as temperamental as ever," he commented above Forcystus's head before glancing down at the smaller half-elf. "Is it any wonder you got 'command' of a backwater place like this?"  
"Say what?" Forcystus snapped, whipping up his cannon arm to point blank at Kvar's face. "Don't toy with me! I've heard what your soldiers have been saying!" It was now his turn to smirk. "You failed, Kvar. After all that trouble, you come back empty handed. Whose reputation is going to be tarnished now?" His glee increased as Kvar's ire returned. The cannon was lowered as Forcystus waved his hand carelessly in the air, accentuating his comments. "Couldn't kill the woman _or _the child... They both just conveniently tumbled off a cliff. Not only that, but you lost that oh so precious EXsphere of yours as well! How you _ever_ rose as high as you did is beyond me. Unless all your missions were accomplished by dumb luck."

"Hold your tongue or you will be one less yet another limb!" Kvar snapped, unamused. It was Forcystus's way of petty revenge, he knew. As home to the Chosen, Iselia's ranch was more like a dummy ranch than anything, functioning more like insurance to keep the village people especially obedient. Such status meant less importance and that meant less urgency on supplies. The longer Kvar stayed, the more his men would take up resources Forcystus and his men could potentially need.  
"Kvar," Yuan interrupted, growing impatient. The other two men jumped, suddenly reminded of his presence. "Tell me, what happened to Kratos? If the woman and child are dead, then where is he?"  
The general shifted, uncomfortable. "I can honestly say that I haven't the faintest idea," he finally answered. "Probably still in the woods grieving over the loss of that lab rat and spawn."  
Yuan gathered his cloak tighter around him and pulled over his hood, thoroughly annoyed with the two in front of him. "Neither of you will speak of this to anyone," he instructed, motioning to his own troop of men. Teal eyes looked pointedly at Kvar. "I mean it. Nothing that happened this night need be remembered," he stared down the both of them before turning on his heel. "And if you're so upset about the experiment, Cardinal, then I suggest you get over it. Perhaps even start over. You have other specimens, do you not?" He heard the general growl and mutter something under his breath, but the blunette cared little.  
It was time to go retrieve Kratos.

* * *

Dirk was prevented from using his meditative habit of reflecting upon Dwarven yore with the unrelenting reminder that he was following a hobbling who-knew-what back to a spot where a pack of Desians could possibly be waiting to tear him apart. Lloyd whimpered something into the nape of his neck, but still the child did not stir. For prudence's sake he had carefully shifted the child to a carrying position on his back. He had been worried for a moment by the boy's lack of awakening- for surely anyone would after all this movement- but no careful checking revealed any threatening wound, so he resolved that the boy would simply awaken later. For now, there was more to worry about.

This could not have been good for the creature either. One of his legs was starting to drag behind the other, but still it did not let Dirk fall too far behind him. Nerves on end, Dirk was sorely tempted to make a snide remark if only to make himself better, but the animal's slowly waving tail, the light in its eyes, and its undaunted spirit seemed to only make such thoughts seem cruel, and any Dwarf worth the name could hold his tongue when it really mattered. But what was he coming back here for?

Finally, they were back at that starting point. For the second time that night, Dirk peered out from the trees to the destruction before him. At first nothing looked different and he felt a burning impulse of anger at himself for being so silly. His father had a saying, "Only Elves read the stars." There was no use trying to read more into a situation than what was there. The animal was probably just delirious with pain and Dirk had just mistaken that gleam in his eyes for intelligence, when really there was nothing turning the gears in-between those two furry excuses for ears- What was that?

Next to Anna was a body that had not been there previously, a mass with a mop of red hair slumped over on its side. The animal whined and stepped forth from their spot in the trees. Dirk nearly called after it before stopping himself and looking around. There didn't _seem_ to be any Desians around. Stopping beside the body, the creature whimpered again and nudged it with his nose. The Dwarf started making his way forward, resolving to try one last time to lead the creature away. However, even as he resigned himself to the utter tragedy of the night, he was startled as the lump move and one hand reached up and stroked the white muzzle.

"Noishe," a harsh voice mumbled before the hand dropped down lifelessly. Dirk stepped a little quicker and peered into the face of this new man. Not the blank, insipid eyes of a cadaver, but utterly lost and broken in a way only the living could be. By the looks of him-quick, brown eyes surveyed every detail of the man- this was no Desian. Yet beyond that, there were no real clues to what else the red-head could possibly be. He was garbed in the normalities of any human male, but with more durable material than even the fussiest housemother used to patch up shirts. Most villagers in Iselia went for simplicity over style; the occasional merchants showed that kind of vanity, but even their style didn't echo this sort of thing. Bored with clothing details, Dirk shifted the child on his back for comfort's sake and took one last look at the man's face, trying as hard as possible from looking at the man's disturbing gaze. Red eyes did not even register the dwarf's presence, which was one blessing. It was in mid-thought of planning the next step that it occurred to Dirk. Frankly, human's faces all started to look the same after awhile, so it was a miracle such stood out to him at all. But bridge of the nose, the breadth of the forehead, the angle of the cheeks... it was all so subtle, but no creature has a better eye for details than a Dwarf. Either this was the boy's father or a conveniently placed near-blood-relative; at this point, Dirk didn't really care which. Kneeling down carefully- ever conscious of the weight on his back- Dirk stared down at the man before him. He was interrupted from his search for the right words when the man surprised him by speaking first. "Leave me," a dry voice murmured, as though it took all his strength to move his lips. "Or kill me. If you have nothing for my suffering, then I have nothing to say to you." Not once did those garnet eyes once look his way.

Dirk couldn't help but give a snort his father would be proud of. "Does the name Anna mean anything to you?" he finally said, carefully watching for the reaction.  
Those haunted eyes finally looked his way, giving no sign of surprise to discover he was talking to a dwarf. "Anna," the man mouthed the two syllables. Then his eyes focused out again. "Lloyd..."

The dwarf was virtually sure now. "The boy," he began firmly, sensing that he was quickly losing the man. "He is your son, is he not?" He could still feel the brunette's rhythmic breathing on the bare skin of his neck. The green and white creature picked its head up, ears perked. They were running low on time.  
The man looked back at him and caught sight of the child's face on his shoulder. A little more light returned to those cold eyes. "Lloyd..." the stranger spoke a little louder, a little clearer. "My boy..." The light flickered.

"He's alive," Dirk assured, "and well. But not out of danger." This was the way. Dirk was sure. "We are _all_ in danger. The Desians may come for their fallen comrades at any moment. We cannot be here when they come." Color was starting to return to the man's face. The dwarf was giving Kratos needed kindling, a purpose to gather strength for. Few things were stronger than a parent's need to protect their child and Dirk was using that to his best advantage. "I have a home, not far off. The Desians shouldn't think to look for you there. But I cannot carry both you and the boy. The creature," he gestured to their companion animal that seemed to be becoming increasingly nervous, "is injured and cannot handle your weight." He looked the man straight in the eye, keeping his tone smooth but blunt. "You need to carry the boy. What say you?"

For a long moment the night seemed still. Then slowly but steadily, the man gathered himself to his feet. He was startlingly tall and not only to Dirk, but enough to even easily tower over an elf. Yet the dwarf had never seen a man that seemed so small. The clothes were dirt-stained as was the man's face and the haunted look had not at all left those garnet eyes. All that may have been true, but the father still held out his strong arms for his son. Dirk turned and let the man gather the child, feeling both the tenderness in that hold and the sudden cold air on his back. Brown eyes had a quick glimpse of a sword in hilt at the man's side before turning to see the boy was in good hands. The dwarf nodded solemnly and gestured a direction. "We go. Now." The red-head returned the nod with equal solemnity and headed forward, taking cover in the trees with the creature limping along after him. Not following quite yet, Dirk, again for the second time that night, deftly covered any tracks that might have given them away. Giving the grounds one more thorough look, his eyes came upon Anna's body. He knew next to nothing about her, but fate had seen to it that tonight they crossed paths. Leaving her like this seemed wrong to his fierce sense of pride and honor. Resolving quietly to soon come back and gather her body, he turned his back on the clearing and made his way to the three waiting for him.  
It would be a long journey home.

* * *

It had been fairly easy for Yuan and his entourage to find the right location. At the top of the cliff, the blunette took in the wreckage with not just a little consternation. Desians, as useful as they were sometimes, were never ones to leave a place better than how they found it. Teal eyes taking in body after body, it occurred to him- not for the first time- that it was a bloody business he had decided to get himself entangled with. Not feeling particularly entangled with morals, he stepped over a particular soldier's body, one that oddly looked like it had been burned to death, and to the cliff's edge. His precise hearing allowed him to hear his right-hand man, Botta, calling for him. He privately hoped that this meant that Kratos had been located. The sooner they could leave this dismal place the better.

Down below, the earth looked in even worse shape that it did where he was at. Shattered landscape, more mutilated bodies- it just figured that Kratos was going to make things as difficult as possible. The soldiers that had come with him were still scouring the grounds, but standing on a mound was Botta, signaling his boss with his waving arms. Little choice here. The only way to go was down.

Unknowingly mimicking the very man he was searching for, Yuan stepped off and over the ledge into mid-air. Before gravity could take over and pull him down, heliotrope wings sprung from his back, catching the wind, and making him airborne. Even in the pitch night they managed to shimmer with a light of their own. Unruffled and with a grace that could not be matched by even an elf, he fluttered ethereally through the still air and landed impeccably upon the ground, not even a pebble stirring out of place. Contrary to this soft display, hard, cold teal eyes stared back at Botta, who managed to look back with a nerve only years of experience could garner. It was always important to remember that no one got to a position like Lord Yuan's by mere flashy display. The squinty-eyed aide coughed to clear his throat and the noise startled the nearby Renegades back to their tasks. Even the most seasoned of soldiers got caught off guard by the sight of angel wings. Such was a rare and beautiful sight to behold.

"Have you found him?" Yuan got straight to the point.

Great self-control prevented Botta from fidgeting. "Not quite, my lord," he began. "We-"

Annoyed, the blunette interrupted, "Then why are you talking to me when you could be helping your comrades search this area? A progress report isn't much when there isn't any progress." On the edge of his temper, the wise took note that Yuan was one that got cold before unleashing hell fire. Such people discretely continued their search a few paces away.

Botta's self-control waned a bit, but still did not allow him to flinch. "That is what I wished to bring to your attention, my lord," he retained his respectful tone, not dropping his gaze from that of his commander's. "The men have already sweeped throughout this area. Numerous dead have been accounted for, but not one of them is Lord Kratos."

Setting his jaw, Yuan spun on his heel, peering into the dark as though he could spot something his soldiers had missed. Most other Desian leaders would have dismissed one like Botta at that moment, going through commanders until finally find one that told them what they wanted to hear, but such was not the way between Botta and Yuan. Years of camaraderie had generated respect and a certain degree of trust on both sides. The lack of such in the Desian army was yet one of many faults Yuan could name of Cruxis. During the good years he had learned the value of personal ties and a force with personal desires at stake was a force to be reckoned worth. True he had also gone on to learn the cost such ties could have... Yuan swept the dark memories away with practiced ease. Now was not the time or place. "What about the woman and the boy? What trace of them has been found?"

Dutifully Botta pointed out a monstrous corpse unlike all the others. "That," he gestured, "was found. We hypothesize it to be the body of the specimen A012 Kvar was talking about. Although there is no sign of his declaimed EXsphere."

"Let Kvar worry about those tiny details," Yuan waved it off, still peering through the woods around them. "And the boy? Has his body been found as well?"

"Negative," Botta shook his head, settling into an at-ease position. "Neither he nor Lord Kratos have left a trace of their whereabouts."

"Hmm," Yuan frowned thinly. He was liking less and less of this by the minute. His plan, which had gone so well, was quickly unraveling from its end goal. He had figured that Kratos would have become a thorn in his side eventually, but never like this. The man's unwavering loyalty to Yggradsil and his cause had always been the assumed obstacle, not the sudden news that Kratos had run off with a lab specimen of all things. After so long he had thought his old comrade was all out of surprises. Still, Yuan was confident that this was nothing he could not fix. Kratos needed to return to Cruxis so as to not needlessly mislead Yggdrasil's attention and there was only one way Yuan could see about going about that. However, this whole night would have been for nothing if he could not return the red-head back under their "precious" lord's possessive eyes. "I assume you have already searched for any tracks."

"Of course, my lord," Botta assured, breaking from his stance to gesture to a nearby Renegade captain. The captain hand signed something back, a signal that was clearly negative for the aide hissed under his breath. Recovering his formal posture, he reported back to Yuan, "Some animals, even possible monsters, have wandered around the site, but according to our specialist, no footprints of any biped coming or going."

The blunette looked back at the hovering cliffside, crossing his arms beneath his thick cloak. "No need for footprints when you've got wings," he muttered under his breath. He looked up the evening sky, the many stars above not bringing even the slightest spark of wonder. If what he feared was true, Kratos could have taken his son just about anywhere and it would be yet another goose-chase to try and track him down. If that were not enough, with what happened tonight, chances were Kratos would be doubly on-guard and with only a son to protect, all the more fierce. He inquired to Botta, "Any chance any of the residents of Iselia could have interfered?"

"Highly unlikely if not impossible," the brunette answered. "According to what some of the men have dug up, Forcystus keeps a tight reign on this place. Villagers keep strictly to their so-called agreement and don't come this near the Ranch. Another rule is to not travel at night. With how cowed the Desians have people around here I find it hard to believe anyone could not only stumble upon this site, meddle with Desian affairs, but also remove any traces of such activity. With no reports of even a single trouble-maker in these parts, I find it hard to believe that anyone would have the caliber to do such a thing even if they were to disobey curfew."

"Your position does not require you to hypothesize so much," Yuan snapped, not even half-heartedly. Botta's network of information was a system he had trained himself and there was no reason to doubt these words. It just irked him like a strike to the funny bone that so much had fallen from his grasp. So much for his hopes of delivering a shattered Kratos into Yggdrasil's care. Still, he resolved himself, all was not ultimately lost. One in the position he was in- _especially_ in the position he was in- had to have plenty of back-up plans available, and Yuan had grown use to developing them on the fly. No, all was not lost. There would be other nights and days to find Kratos, wherever he had chosen to hide himself. Perhaps this quaint search would keep Yggdrasil occupied enough. Knowing his superior, Yuan highly suspected the controlling blonde would consider it like he had all along, merely a game to pass the time with. Yuan just had to risk that Yggdrasil would _keep_ seeing it like this.

It was not the worst gamble he had ever made.

"Call your men back," Yuan made a sweeping motion at Botta. "We will return to base and make our way back to headquarters in the morning."

The brunette dutifully followed orders and echoed the command down the chain of leadership. As the men regrouped, Botta allowed himself to seem a little worried. "Will it be alright like this?" he asked quietly. Even he was unused to questioning the seraphim. "All the planning leading up to this night and with nothing to show for it?"

"I'll handle the reports myself," Yuan assured, his coolness coming back as his mind busied itself with making more plans and backup plans. "Not to fear. We will make the very best of what happened here. You'll see."

As satisfied as he would be, Botta bowed humbly and turned to the task of directing his wearied troop of men back to Forcystus's Ranch. Yuan watched his Renegades march on, uncomplaining. Yes, they would make the best of this and any other obstacle that came in their path. Teal eyes glanced once more at the ebony sky full of watching stars and hardened his resolve to an impenetrable point before following. No, nothing would get in his way.

Especially not an old friend and a half-breed excuse of a child.

* * *

~File One: SAVED~

* * *

"Hell and night must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light."

-Othello, **Shakespeare**

---

_For Kat,_

_Whose conversation was continually interrupted by the genesis for this concept, and who patiently sat in the backseat to both vehicle and conversation for us to debate it._


	2. Chapter 2: Time Does Not Create Bonds

_For DISCLAIMER, SPOILERS, etc._, _please refer back to chapter one. Any additions will be added as we go._

EIRI NOTE: Thanks to OFIS, Anime_Lover, Lupanari, and others for pointing out both the spelling and the misspelling of Kvar's name. (On it was spelled as K-e-v-a-r.) Regarding the spacing issues, we have no idea how that happened except for something screwy going on with . (Or, as Eiri would like to point out, user stupidity, but who knows.) Deep apologies about misspelling Kvar's name. We are trying to make this story as professional in format as possible, so mistaking a character's name is very embarrassing. (Erro managed to correct it for those of you reading on LiveJournal and went back and fixed it on .) We will do our best to monitor and edit better. Thanks for everyone's patience and understanding.

ERRO NOTE: Apologies for the formatting. I took the time to make it pretty but ff decided to be funky. Sigh. Also thank you to the few who looked ch2 over on the LJ preview to make sure I got all the mistakes, and sorry if we missed any.

KUDOS: Pat yourself on the back if you caught the (really) vague "Get Smart" references last chapter.

CONCEPT: CRdreamer (Erro) and heartofShou (Eiri)

WRITTEN BY: heartofShou (Eiri)

_**Ripple Effect**_

"Snail! Scary knot of desires!

Hungry snarl! Small son.

Why do I have to love you?

How have you won?"

-Anne Stevenson, **The Victory**

_**Chapter Two**_**: Time Does Not Create Bonds**

**~~~~  
**  
It was not the soft crying that woke him, but something of a more pressing nature.  
Dirk's mind had been richly immersed in the warm, soothing colors of dreams when nerve centers had rudely interrupted and informed his brain that he was not receiving enough air. Alarm quickly spread through the rest of the body, and he opened his mouth to gasp in oxygen. Inhaling deeply, he recoiled and choked as instead of air, numerous strands of hair entered his throat instead. Brown eyes flashed open, but his mind had not yet caught up enough to see. Panicking limbs clawed out before him, eager to remove whatever was in his way. By the time Dirk realized that what he was seeing was a fluffy, white tail, he had already grabbed hold of the nuisance with a fist. He yanked on it angrily, and a sharp whine came out from beside him.  
Groggily, he blinked a couple times, taking in his surroundings. His house... a beast in his house... and two strangers... Chink by chink, awareness and recognition leaked through the dam of his subconscious and soaked into his waking mind. He released his hold on the tail, the wounded appendage curling back to its whimpering owner.  
Dirk winced slightly with guilt. The poor animal was already injured, needing no help from him to add to that condition. It was an almost comical sight to see so large a creature trying to hide his head under Dirk's sorry excuse for a table. One flap of an ear bent awkwardly against the dwarf's wooden stump of a chair. The fit was obviously not a comfortable one. Most would have been dubious about having such a big beast inside one's home, and indeed Dirk would have been one of them, but self-preservation had taken over last night.  
The father had not so much as blinked at the sight of the roughly built, one-story Dwarven abode. However, even in the dark night, Dirk could have sworn that whatever awareness the man had gained at the sight of his son was waning until very little light was left in those garnet eyes. Once, as they were drawing near the house, he stumbled. Dirk, having been trailing behind to cover any tracks they might have left, had been too far way to have steadied him, though the dwarf had darted forward anyway. He watched, sharply irritated, as the man once more gathered his feet under him, thinly restraining the wildly irrational urge to demand the boy from him.  
Well, if he was going to be so irresponsible!  
Admonishing himself, Dirk strode forth and ushered man, child, and animal inside. Scanning the grounds one last time for any trace he could have missed, he backed into his dwelling slowly and bolted the door. (Thank the Vows he had had the foresight to include _that_ on his still-in-progress- home.) Crouching down beside the wood barrier, Dirk drew his axe from its pouch with a firm grip.  
It might have been paranoia, but his nerves were still taut from all of the night's activities. He would not be getting any sleep any time soon, and he could think of no better way to spend the dreaming hours than by keeping watch at his door. While there was no blood link tying him to any other occupant, his Dwarven heritage insisted that his corpse would be cold before any of them were harmed.  
Dwarven Vow #205: He who does not stick out his neck for others buries a dagger into his own back.  
So it was with extreme chagrin that Dirk realized that he must've fallen asleep at his position by the door. He had not slept long though, it seemed. The bare furnishings of his home were being softly illuminated by a waxing light that could only be from the new dawn. He sat there for a moment, letting his night vision- which was like seeing all the world in neon highlights with muted colors filling in-between- softly shift to his normal sight. Sighing deeply, he reflected that it was indeed true that every night- no matter how dark or frightening- must give way to the day.  
Then he stood. The day had started its work; so now must he. Still feeling apologetic, Dirk's proposed first order of business was to tend to the animal's wounds. Considering the events of the night past, he thought the two humans could stand with a bit of rest. "All right then, pup," he smiled at the big monster trying to hide under his table. The remnants of yesterday's lunch rattled on its wooden surface from the force of the beast's wiggling. As obliging as the animal had started previously, Dirk's attack on the beloved tail seemed to have erased all signs of trust. If that was so then this would become particularly difficult. The dwarf crept forward cautiously, still trying to looks as friendly as possible. It was then that it occurred to him that the mewling sounds he was hearing were not coming from under the table like he thought, but from another source.  
A thick, solid stone dropped from his chest, through his heart, and plopped heavily in his stomach. Pausing in his steps, he listened as the muffled words continued. Or at least he _thought_ they were words, but sounds and syllables strung together in a poor mimicry of what had been heard before.  
Like what a _child_ would, for example...  
Y'vows.  
After hurrying inside, Dirk had been vaguely aware of the father making his way toward the darkest corner and slumping down, probably secure in at least knowing that his back was covered. The last drowsy awareness the dwarf could now recall having was of the stark outlines of firm shoulders rocking gently back and forth... For whose sake had that soothing motion really been for- father or child? The dwarf crept forward silently.  
The man was still- back to the wall, knees drawn up, and shoulders hunched forward. Matted red hair hung down limply in front of his eyes, making his state look even sorrier. Dirk reflected that this could not have been a comfortable position to sleep in, but perhaps that was the point. It had just occurred to him to wonder about the child when his eyes caught movement. Brown eyes focused to see a small form wiggling in the father's limp grasp.  
The boy was awake.

Curled in towards his father's heat, the little child drew invisible patterns on the man's shirt, mumbling nonsense under his breath. To him, daddy was just sleeping. Still, it would be hard to keep hold of that youthful energy for much longer. Already the boy was squirming, torn between the need to move and stretch and the way to be quiet. As with most kids, the former was starting to win out. Dirk was a bit impressed though, despite himself. What little he knew of children- which, for a man that had gone out of his way to learn more about economics than child care, was very little indeed- was that, no matter the race, children were, in essence, all motion and noise. As little as he was- how old could he be anyway? Honestly, all humans came in three sizes to Dirk's untrained eye: small, medium, and large- the boy had obviously been taught the practicalities of being still and quiet. Odd.  
For a moment, Dirk was torn over what his next course of action should be. Inexperience suggested he leave the child alone and wait for the father to wake and handle it. However, self-preservation- which dwarves valued very highly for a reason- rebutted that the last thing he wanted was for the boy to give up on playing quiet and go screaming around the house. (He had seen such- and **worse- **from other human children.) Besides... A memory came unbidden of the boy's mother, in so much pain but clutching together the last remnants of sanity to see her child to some semblance of safety. A remarkable woman, Dirk was sure. It was sad that he would never know her true face, come to know the lady inside the monster. But more sorrowful was the knowledge that this boy would never see his mother again. Pity and sympathy moved Dirk's heart enough that approaching the child no longer seemed like a burdensome chore.  
Dwarven Vow #2: Never abandon someone in need.  
He moved forward gently, allowing himself to make some noise so as to not spook the boy. The little brunette mop perked up and the small boy turned to look at him. With the room almost fully illuminated now, the color shone out as Dirk met eye to eye with this one named Lloyd for the first time.  
One thing Dirk would admit about humans was this fascinating quality they had about eyes. They were like dwarves (and elves as well, if his father had spoken true) in that no two people ever had the same pair of eyes, no matter how much people merely insisted they were inherited. (Which, in Dirk's opinion, was an over-simplification of the mixing between strong and weak genes, etc., but he digressed.) The truth was in the detail of the irises, in gold scratches or blue smudges, in blends of green and gray or in speckles of red. What was uniquely human, however, was the sheer number of different colors possible for the eye. In Dwarven communities, it was the scientific judgment that humans were just above dogs in their color comprehending abilities; the public's opinion was that humans were hopelessly colorblind. Again, Dirk wasn't sure such wasn't true. He had been bemused by a young maiden expressing woe by her plain brown eyes and by a young man explaining to his friends that his gray eyes came from his father. Poets used phrases comparing the feature as bright as suns or deep as oceans, but none paid any mind to describing the colors. Did they really think eyes could be so easily classified into generic groups like blue, brown, green, or gray?  
In any case, this child's eyes would have stood out even amongst his peers. A casual observer would dismiss them as a thick shade of brown, the same as so many of the human population. As deep red as the man's eyes had been, this stronger gene could have come from the boy's mother. It was little wonder that the father's rare coloring would have been overridden by the stronger shades of brown in hair and eyes. But its presence had not been completely erased.  
As Dirk had observed the night before, there was little doubt as to who was the boy's father. The lineage was strongly present in the face and in the eyes. True the coloring had been influenced by the dominant genes, but not completely. There, hidden for now behind the brown, was a flush of auburn highlighted with red. He would never have the full crimson of his father, but perhaps that was only fitting. The boy could then become an attractive blend of both parents. That was eventually though. For now he would have to settle for looking perfectly ordinary. Dirk chuckled at the thought- such was often the burden of youth.  
"Hello there, lad," he greeted cheerfully in Common, finding it easier to smile with his new good humor. "Good morning to yeh."  
To Dirk's surprise, the boy's eyes grew wide before he let out a cry of, "Aaaah!" He clutched tighter at his father's tunic, trying to burrow into the man's side. "Don't eat me! Mama said I was good! I don't want to be bones!" ...Well, at least Dirk now knew that the boy could, indeed, speak Common if these high-pitched yelps were anything to go by.  
Somewhat disappointed that this first interaction was not off to a great start and mostly irritated that the boy could travel with something that looked like a giant wolf with mutant rabbit ears and still be frightened of _him_, Dirk sighed. "There, there," he soothed, patting down gently at the air. "I won't eat you." He tried grinning again. "I don't eat little boys. Yuck!" He gave a great guffaw to further show the child he wasn't the least bit threatening.  
As the last of his laughter was swallowed into silence, a lone agate eye peered up from the folds of the man's tunic. Then two eyes peered up. Still not completely trusting, the child finally fully lifted his head, but did not relinquish his hold on his father's shirt.  
Dirk leaned down, resting his palms on his knees so as to level the staring field.  
Then, as if they had been in conversation all along, the boy gasped out, "Mom...she said...that bad boys get eaten! So...um..." He fiddled with the cloth beneath his fingers, eyes riveted to some detail, but he continued explaining. "So you hafta be...um...  
"Quiet?" Dirk supplied.  
"Yeah," the boy nodded, still not looking at the dwarf. "Quiet..."  
"I see," Dirk said at last. He was no less confused. "Well, like I said, I don't eat little boys for breakfast, of for any other meal. SO have no fear on that account."  
The boy scrunched up his nose, more probably at the sound of Dirk's thick Dwarven accent than at his words. "Good," was all the little brunette said before clambering off his father's lap, only to hide on the other side of him. "Not s'posed... to talk to strangers," he explained somewhat apologetically. Then the small head and body swiveled about on clumsy legs, taking in these strange, new surroundings. "Where's Mama?"  
The dwarf flinched physically; such had been the question he had been dreading. Was there a Dwarven Vow for this sort of thing? Dwarves valued honesty very highly, yet this was so clearly not his place to explain. He retained his smile by force. "Oh, I'm not a stranger," he assured. "I'm a friend. My name is Dirk. What's your name?" Best to dodge the question for now. He'd wait for the father to wake and then follow his lead.  
_To wake..._  
"Lloyd," the boy answered, like Dirk knew he would, but the dwarf's mind was diverted by a sudden thought.  
Brown eyes darted concernedly to the still man who had not so much as twitched during this whole conversation. Surely he would have at least shifted or acknowledged in some way the movement of his child. "Has he always been such a deep sleeper?" he pondered aloud, forgetting for a moment that his audience was a mere boy.  
"What?" Lloyd asked, furrowing his brow in exaggerated confusion. Clearly he had never heard the term before.  
"Er," Dirk thought quickly for the simplest explanation, "it means... is he often hard to wake up?" He had to repeat the question a few times and in a few different ways for the boy to understand.  
Lloyd's face contorted into an expression of such seriousness that Dirk almost laughed. How odd that one so young can manage to look so grave. In his young mind, though, Lloyd was vaguely remembering the very few times he had seen his father sleeping. Even when his mother had to stop for much needed rest, Daddy was always awake. To protect them, so his mother had said. From what, he had wondered. The only world he knew of consisted of himself, Mama, Daddy, and Noishe. There were others, and he was shy of them, but he knew so little of danger. So his mother had told him that he would understand when he was older.  
There had been that one time though, when his father had been sleeping- because Mama had made him after a _long_ talk- and Mama and Lloyd had been playing together quietly in a corner. Some noise had started up from the bottom of the inn. Lloyd had been curious and had darted to the door, despite Mama hissing after him. Not that Mama was much better. She had tiptoed over after him and knelt just behind him, their two pairs of eyes peering through the slightly ajar door. There was nothing to hear, just angry voices wafting up the stairs. Lloyd couldn't understand what they were saying, but he had felt his mother stiffen behind him. Without saying a word she closed the door softly and grabbed her son firmly by the wrist. He toddled after her as she took hold of the dagger that was absent from her side only during those quiet, playing hours. Lloyd tried to ask her if they were leaving already, but she had shushed him. She had turned to wake her husband only to find him gone from the bed and standing by the door. Lloyd had wondered how he had gotten up so fast, but then remembered that this was another of those "quiet" times. Daddy turned to face them, serious as ever. Everything after had happened so fast. One of them had wrapped his mother's shawl tightly around him and then he was up, all that way up in Daddy's arms. He had squirmed, being old enough to not like being held. But then, "An adventure, Lloyd," was what his father had said. All feelings of apprehension had faded then. Lloyd loved adventures.  
Much later, when they had gone far away from that place but continued walking anyway, Lloyd had been dozing atop Noishe's back. Crawling as deep into sleep as he was, he still felt when his father's firm hand came to steady him, resting warmly on his back. He heard Mama ask Daddy how he had known; she had suspected him deeply asleep. "You and I have always been light-sleepers," Daddy had answered her, with a grim sense of humor. "I, particularly, considering all the experience I've had. But," he paused here; there was the rustling of cloth and the clasping of two hands, "my first and only priority is my family. Do not doubt that I would not do everything I can to protect that."  
The words themselves meant nothing to Lloyd; their meaning utterly lost on him. The strength in his father's voice, however, wasn't. Drawn out his memories, he shook his head at the dwarf in answer to the question.  
Worst fears confirmed, Dirk openly cursed in Dwarven. Then he snatched at the man's shoulders, to try and wake him up.

His spirit was in a state of peace, but his mind was in a state of panic.  
There was nothing.  
Anywhere.  
Which was precisely what his heart had wanted, but his essence was refusing to disappear entirely. The mind of sentiment beings- whether dwarf or human or elf- balks at nothingness, at lack of control. Too long a time spent in this way led to insanity or the placid emptiness of being a body without a spirit. A piece of him turned at this thought. That's right... He had experienced something like this before, a long, long time ago.  
When he had gotten his wings...?  
It had been different then though. Then, something foreign and powerful had invaded him and like a parasite, had tried to force him out of himself. He had fought it though, holding onto his identity- the man then known as Kratos Aurion- through sheer will and for a cause he had wholly believed in. Because of that, he had been able to retain his mind when becoming his angel self, unlike the unfortunate souls that had become little more than soulless servants upon being turned.  
Now, though, there was no outside enemy to force out; his only foe was himself. And as he had long feared, such was proving to be too powerful an opponent for him to struggle against. Yet, where the spirit dies, the sharp mind, so carefully cultivated after so many years, was not so forlorn. With sheer stubbornness, it clawed out into the recesses of the consciousness, searching out any sort of memory it could use to rebuild itself. Finally, it took hold of something...  
_Experienced fingers strummed knowingly at the taut strings of his dulcimer, fine-tuning it in a way that only the trained ear could identify. He browsed through different beats that lay stored inside his head even as he was noting the tempo of the passing crowd's steps. Noishe, perched upon his shoulder and trying to hide his head under a wing so as to get some sleep during these daylight hours, squawked as Kratos too quickly changed his mind and plucked at two awkward notes. The bard promptly cleared his throat by way of apology.  
He paused, taking a moment to nudge his billowing hat with the toe of a boot. Not as full as he liked but the day was early and a particularly bright Market Day. He could afford to be optimistic for a few more hours. So what would fit this kind of occasion? Something cheerful and full of the hope of an earlier springtime; something lacking the dark cloud of war that hung in shadows even now. Ah, he had just the lesson-  
Most pickpockets worked fast enough and smoothly enough that it takes some time for one to realize that they have been robbed, if indeed they realize at all before they get home. Kratos took the time to reflect that it truly showed the inexperience of the thief that not only could crimson eyes track the movement as if it were happening at a tenth the speed, but the fact that it happened right in front of his nose was almost stupidly daring. Of course, had anyone else been watching, they would have merely noticed that one moment the tip hat was there and the next it wasn't. Even though he had practically seen it happen, that did not stop Kratos from letting loose a string of fierce curses.  
That had been the earnings of some hours!  
Luckily, even as he had breathed out the second syllable, Noishe had unfurled his wings and soared after the perpetrator. With more practice than Kratos liked to think he had, he swung the instrument gently around on its strap so it lay securely on his back and chased after his companion. It did not take long to track down the criminal. Cries of, "Ouch!" and "Stop it, stupid bird!" guided him right to where he needed to be. He was somewhat surprised- despite himself- to see that it was a child Noishe was pecking at, effortlessly darting out of the way at careless swings of the treasured hat. Of course, only a child would be so desperate, so inexperienced, and so daring as to try such a thing. He was neither the first nor the last to turn to such a tactic to make a living, but Kratos could not help but reflect on how young he looked. Surely no more than ten with how small he was, but then it was hard to judge since street children were so rarely in the best of health.  
Just then, as if feeling that he was being watched, the young blonde boy turned and looked at him. The sun bright hair only slightly dimmed with dirt, the pale skin only slightly marred with bruises- all the possible impressions such could have given yielded way as the bard caught a glimpse of the bluest eyes he had ever seen_-

The memory was stopped, torn out from recollection, and stuffed into a used drawer. No, not that memory. It still hurt too much. Even the mind was shaking from the after-effects_._ No, that was too far back. Think closer, think sooner... _  
_

"_When next you see Lord Yggdrasill, please convey our deepest gratitude that he deigned to take an interest in our little experiment," Kvar reiterated for the twelfth time as they strolled along in empty hallway after hallway. The clicks of their boots echoed out into the emptiness and returned alone with no reply to their calls. Sometimes the starkness would be broken by the scurrying of a Desian soldier rushing forward to clear the way for them. Other Desian officials would have been left to their own devices- under a very paranoid watch of course. (Magnius, in particular, had been fun to watch when he had stayed over for a period of training.) However, as devious as Desians could be toward one another they could be as smooth as silk when it came to impressing the higher-ups. And they didn't come much higher than a Seraphim. One of the Five Grand Cardinals Kvar might have been, but it pleased him to think that he had only just begun to tap into his full potential. This sudden interest of Lord Yggdrasill might yet prove to be the making of him._

"_The results of your experiment should be adequate enough to speak for itself," Kratos had answered, not even moved enough to be annoyed. Crimson eyes stared dully straight ahead, like one lost in deep contemplation except there was very little left to contemplate. "Should all go well, they would better sing your praises than ever I could." _

_Kvar's confidence faltered a bit, but the bruise was one easily recovered from. He _knew_ after all, that the experiment worked, had ruthlessly worked to insure it so. His ego swelled, puffing out his chest. Success was tantalizingly close. "Of course, of course," he murmured, satisfied for now._

_They continued on wordlessly for some time, neither naturally inclined to chatter. The clicking of the boots continued. They passed empty cell after empty cells, the human occupants were out doing hard labor and the empty space just seemed to emphasize the lack of life in the fortress. Kvar, though always in the perfect posture as befit his station, could not come close enough to meeting Kratos's height, square his shoulders back as he might._

_Gaps._

_Gaps and emptiness everywhere._

_It was a singular thought coming and passing through Kratos's head without the least bit of panic._

Like a firm fist, his mind grabbed hold of the memory with a death grip...

Dirk clasped the man's right shoulder and shook him gently. "Hey," he called, keeping his tone even. The last thing he wanted was to make a parent's protective instinct go berserk. "Hey! Wake up!"

The only response he got came not from the man, but from the pair of agate eyes widening in curiosity as they watched him.

There was a clue here-

Something he was missing-

What was it?

_Yet another door opened before them. They were heading toward the heart of the fortress now. Artificial lights shone brighter to stave off the natural darkness. Kvar spoke up as the door closed behind them._

"_We keep it secluded from the others so as to avoid foreign contaminants," he explained. "The climate of the room is kept controlled and closely monitored. Three hours of exercise per day, along with three meals of carefully prepared nutrients. We have to let it out in the sunlight or its health will suffer, which we unfortunately found out with the last specimen." The Desian sighed, rubbing at the wrinkles that this long process had given him. Or so he thought- elven skin, even when mixed with human genes, does not wrinkle so easily._

_It was here Kratos asked his first question since arriving. "What is its temperament?" the question was posed coolly before red eyebrows furrowed. "Your report said that the subject was female, correct?" _

_Kvar took to the questions as warmly as any other getting a chance to talk about work that absorbed them. "Yes, it is," he answered, addressing the second question. "When it comes to general processing, any type will do. However, for what we had in mind, we needed to know what makes these things _flourish_." A sinister light gleamed in those small black eyes, remembering with a thrill the scientific exploits he had undergone. "In that case, it responds better to a female's body. No real surprise," he downplayed slyly, glancing at Kratos with hopes of a compliment, "seeing as how the female body is built not only to create life, but sustain it." When Kratos proved as taciturn as ever, Kvar continued, a bit soured. "As for temperament, AO12 is proving to be surprisingly docile. Aside from its odd quirks, we've had next to no problems."_

"_Quirk?" Kratos raised an eyebrow._

_Kvar grinned sharply. "Yes," he chuckled indulgently, "she nicks things." At the slightly incredulous tweak of Kratos's eye, he expanded, "it started soon after AO12 had been moved into its new quarters. The attempts were pathetic at first and not much improvement has been made since then. It is usually only small things- a deck of cards, a toy ball, or some other trivial item the soldiers carry on their person to pass the time on duty. It never went for anything dangerous, like a weapon or such or else this behavior would have been terminated at once, naturally. As things stand it is but a harmless game. The project may need physical fitness and not mental, but so long as it stays this way, it hurts nothing. Ah..." He gestured to a different looking door in front of them. Two guards, who had been previously kneeling down in the midst of a card game, suddenly stood at strict attention. Kvar spared them only a mildly annoyed glance. "Here we are."_

Oh, that's right...

Dirk was nearing full-out panic now. The man was not responding and the dwarf couldn't figure out why. He was shaking the man bodily now, but still not so much as a twitch. It would have helped had he a name to call, something that would have pulled personally at the man. Nothing was working. He had checked the heart and breath rates and had been alarmed to find that they were slow, _very_ slow. However, at the same time, both were steady and even the heartbeat didn't flutter or fluctuate. The body was allowing only the minimal amount of energy necessary to keep vital functions working and seemed to be shutting down all else.

All this just lead to a continuous thought of not good, not good, not good.....

"Wake up!" Dirk bellowed, searching for some sort- any sort- of reaction in those dulled crimson eyes. "You've got to wake up! Your little boy is here waiting for you. Doesn't that matter? Wake up!"

Frightened and not at all understanding what was going on, Lloyd started to react to the abuse being done to his father in the only way he could. He began to cry and then because no child cries quietly, he started to scream, filling his young lungs with air and expelling with all the force he could, the one tool of his that always brought his parents running to him. But this time no one heeded him and as Dirk yelled louder to be heard over the noise, Lloyd yelled louder to compensate. It was even more disconcerting to him to not hear his father stir and come to quiet him or his mother hurry over and soothe him. There was no one at all and loneliness so pierced his heart that he sobbed harder and called more.

_The door slid open with a hiss to a cold box of room, four barren walls of metal trapped inside blaring artificial lights. Kratos followed as Kvar stepped inside the cell, the doorway only allowing one person to pass at a time. It was a temperate setting, neither too warm or too cold, but constant and even. The left corner was set aside for toiletries far better than the outhouses the people of Sylvarant were still using. Against the right wall was a table and one solitary chair and on the far wall was a cot covered with a threadbare blanket and flat cotton pillow. Sitting atop the cot, curled up in the corner and drawing imaginary patterns on the wall, was A012._

_She was small, almost fragile looking, but well-fed and fit. Modestly covered with a plain shift that hung down to her ankles and with brown hair cropped short so that locks hung about everywhere, it would have been easy to overlook her or pass her off as simply ordinary. "AO12," Kvar greeted with some pride, "why do you not greet our new visitor?" She lifted her left hand, the one with the EXsphere implanted in it. It was a sphere of a rich, deep blue color but its excellence was contrasted with the aggravated veins rising up around it. As much as the EXsphere took to its host body it was still recognized as an unnatural parasite. The same pale hand came up and brushed brunette bangs off the forehead and behind round ears so that earth eyes could peer up at him, studying him in turn._

Her...

There was no answer.

Dirk's heart sank even as he gathered his feet under him. He peered closer at the man's countenance, looking for any sign of change. Crimson eyes were gone now, replaced with closed lids that showed not even the hidden movement of dreams. But the face... The blankness in features that had so frightened him before had been smoothed gently into an expression of peace, like one lucky enough to be taken in his sleep. The man wasn't dead, Dirk knew that, but for all intents and purposes he was as good as gone from this world.

The child was starting to cough from the strain on his lungs but still he stubbornly tried to keep at least some sort of noise going. The fit had exhausted him and that was what was really quieting him; he had not been soothed at all. Somewhat bewildered and dazed himself, Dirk left the man's side to deal with one that truly needed him. The dwarf walked over to the small child and kneeling before him, did his best to awkwardly comfort the poor boy. Thankful for some response at last, Lloyd huddled closer to Dirk's bulk, seeking the warmth and solidarity that used to always be there. Callused hands awkwardly rubbed the small back that continued to quiver like a small bird's heart. Numbly, Dirk wondered what in the world he was going to do now. How did things continue from here?

Still huddled under the table, a silent witness to all the chaos, Noishe whined softly, feeling just as helpless.

_He should have known better. _

_He had been sent there to monitor, to keep note of Kvar's progress. No effort had been necessary on his part to get to know the subject better. He had been suspicious though of just how congenial AO12 acted. A turkey's display of plucking itself and stretching out its neck before the ax would have been just as conspicuous. But years of good behavior had brought the guards' and even Kvar's defenses down, so sure were they that this was how it was supposed to be. "Why should it be troublesome?" Kvar had insisted the one time Kratos had brought it up. "Spared even from beatings, it does seem to live a life of luxury compared to its fellow samplings. Why should it want that to change?" Kratos was not so sure. He knew from long, hard, bitter experience that it only took so long before people- before _humans_- showed their true colors. _

_Not at all interested in extending his time spent with Kvar or sitting at a desk to study computer read-out, perhaps it was only natural that he turns his attention to her. Long hours he would spend in the cell, presumably to closer watch her behavior, but really to reside for even an hour in the one spot of quiet and peace. Not needing to eat had deprived him of even that pleasure and quite frankly he was bored. He stood back against a wall, arms folded and eyes closed because what difference did it make to have them open or shut? AO12 must have mistaken it for sleep though and he could sense her watching him, no doubt wondering what was with this man that would nap in front of a prisoner. As he felt her eyes peering at him, he wondered contemptuously what she could be thinking. How to use him? Another enemy to be studied? How could she deceive him? He would put nothing past a human's capacity. His heart gnawed on this old bitterness for awhile until the sound of soft snores met his sharp hearing. A crimson eye peeked out to see the specimen curled up on the cot, her back towards him, and sleeping peacefully. Gutsy- he would give her that. He did nothing like she must have known he wouldn't, just closed his eyes and held his position against the wall._

_It was a silence that wouldn't become comfortable for quite a while yet._

Dirk set the last stone atop the newly made grave, grimly taking in the finished product that had taken him a good portion of the day. After treating the creature- "Noishe," the boy had said- and the child's wounds, he had set out some meager food for the both of them before heading out to retrieve the mother's corpse. Leaving the child alone might not have sounded like the best idea, but this was not the sort of task he wanted the boy watching him undertake. Besides, there was the more selfish desire to have some time for himself. If only to try and figure things out. Old Thayne of the Sword, who had been the one to instate Dwarven Vow Number 39 after the Lerdo War, had unexpectedly been burdened with the responsibility of becoming king after six older brothers had gotten each other assassinated. Not only had Thayne _not_ retreated to his previously luxurious lifestyle, but he had worked in cooperation with the council of advisers to help Southern Dwarves not only push out Northern Dwarf influence but become a vast empire. So the moral of the story was that unexpected responsibility could end up being given to you for a reason. Dirk knew that, but as usual with sad tidings, wondered what he could have done to deserve this.

He could not, with good conscious, hand the kid over to care of Iselia. The people there were so cowed by the Desians and their power that the first sign of trouble would result in handing the boy over without a second thought. They liked to think they took care of their own, but anyone outside of that was fresh bait. Dirk was also aware that with one parent dead and the other as good as comatose, that the mother's wish for him to take care of her son was pretty binding. Granted, she might not have had any particular timeframe in mind so long as her son was brought to safety, but...

At the same time was he really the best person to raise a child? He'd have his doubts even had it been a Dwarven child dropped on his doorstep! The reason he had left his home without first getting married was not only because he wanted to be free to pursue his own interests, but because he knew it wouldn't be fair to a potential mate or child. Families took time and effort and _money_. Y'vows, the money! His business was steady enough, income trickling in just enough so that he did not lack for comfort. But children were expensive! He'd have to feed it and clothe it and...and... other child rearing things!

Rising up from his stooped position, Dirk gave a long sigh even as he stretched out his back. He rubbed his eyes, fending off a headache, and when he dropped down his hand, there was the headstone patiently standing before him, waiting for his answer. He sighed again. It was not so much a question if he was the right person than the answer that he was the _only_ person to do so, even despite his gut feeling that this might not turn out well.

Gloved fingers scrawled along the etched in name.

"_What are you writing there?" he had asked suddenly, breaking a long line of days spent in agreed silence. His curiosity had grown despite himself. The long hours spent "observing" her had allowed him to notice that she was not thoughtlessly drawing mind patterns with her fingers. Instead it was the same motion over and over again, a relentless routine that she continued in all her free time. So, yes, he was curious._

_Her fingers finished the pattern and paused. Was she making up a lie? What falsehood would she create to placate him? Then she breathed, "Anna." Even as he blinked in slight surprise, she sat up in her cot. "It's my name," she explained, then went on to repeat her habit, making the characters bigger so he could see it for himself. Sure enough it was the simple name. Then her finger stilled and she stared at the wall, perhaps seeing in her mind the name written over and over again as she had done over the years. "So I don't forget... and so I can remember-" She caught herself and looked at him guiltily, but he could think of nothing to say._

_He turned his own gaze to the wall, a memory struck inside him. Of a time when he been inside a different sort of facility and had etched many, many different names onto the bunk above him. Had "Kratos" been one of them? He couldn't remember. When was the last time he had used this name he had chosen so long ago? His companions were the only ones who would address him by name, but his run-ins with them were few and far between and for good reason. Blinking, he found that he had unconsciously walked to face the same wall and just because he could, drew out his own name._

_The sight of her confused face drew his attention. She peered at the wall as though she could see the letters if she tried hard enough. "What is it?" she asked, hesitant and still unsure of this new interaction between them. "I don't... understand..." _

_It was with chagrin that he realized that he had written his name in Angelic, just out of habit. Too proud to admit his mistake and suitably distracted enough not to wonder why he cared, he turned back to the wall. What had she written it in? Common? Slowly he rewrote his name, this time with different characters. "Kratos," he said simply as he finished and he saw her eyes studying him._

_Much, much later he would notice that it was not just her name that she scrawled over and over, but by that "much, much later", his heart would seem a very achangéd thing._

Dirk started awake, but even as he became aware that he was sitting up in his bed, he didn't know what had awakened him. Irritated, he cocked an ear and listened to see if Noishe- Y'vows, he was getting used to calling the new additions to his home by name and it had only been how many days?- was howling again. The first few nights the "dog" had been put outside it howled like someone was killing it. The sound had distressed the boy and had annoyed Dirk greatly to the point that he tried to shoo the animal off so that it wouldn't have to feel what it was actually like to get mauled. Even with his tail between his legs Noishe had refused to budge and the threat of him leaving was enough to make Lloyd even more panicked. It was then that Dirk had to reconcile himself to the fact that the pet was here to stay and he gave in gracefully enough, but with the firm decision that the animal was to stay OUT-SIDE. Perhaps after getting used to the notion that not only was Lloyd safe but the two of them were here to stay, Noishe had eventually stopped putting his nightly fusses and settled himself beneath the shelter of a nearby tree.

A few moments of listening proved that Noishe was innocent of this sleep interruption, but before Dirk was able to pass it off as nothing, the soft sound of sobbing caught his ears. Something in his chest twisted and with a deep sigh, he pulled himself out of his warm bed.

He opened the door that led down to the cellar and subsequently to his resting area- old habits were hard to break- and walked into the aboveground portion of his home. His single story house was becoming rather crowded, even a full month after that dark, tragic night. Another chair- or stump, depending on how you look at it- had been added to his table, if a bit taller than its counterpart so as to make-up for lacking height. The man, still deeply asleep within himself, had been set in a corner and Dirk had little choice but to just curtain that section of the room off. To be fair, his house was much tidier than any living quarters of his had ever been in his life. Some of his things, like those relating to his work, had been moved outside into a locked shed, while some had simply found new homes lower up. For a child only so big, it was amazing the sort of things the boy could grab, break, take apart, get into, or other activities that only made sense to a four-year-old mind. In his own little corner, with an impromptu bed of thick quilts, Lloyd was curled under his blanket to form a small mound that quivered as he sobbed. Dirk quickly ascertained the problem as his sharp ears picked up the hoarse voice calling for Mama and Daddy. The old him wanted to scurry back to bed and hide, but pity and compassion stirred his heart so that he easily dismissed that selfish part of him and gently took a seat upon the small make-shift bed.

Lloyd had been told the truth about his mother as gently and as simply as Dirk could put it. It had been awkward to step into the role the dwarf knew the father should be taking, but there was no one else and the boy needed to know. He had assured the little brunette that his mother was safe now and would always be watching over him. (How did humans describe death? The subject was nearly taboo as far as conversation went and the one thing he had noticed in his travels was the way they had buried their deceased. In this way, he hoped he did right by Anna by imitating this style of burial. Yet the one thing he knew dwarves, humans, and elves held in common was this notion- though it varied by belief- that those that came before somehow maintained this vigil over their loved ones. And after leaving so young a child, he could not doubt that Anna would do the same.) The issue of Lloyd's father was another matter. The boy just could not understand why his father was not there, and try as he might, Dirk could not come up with any suitable excuse.

For a moment, they coexisted in silence. Words failed Dirk; even all the ones he had collected from all the folklore and the Vows could not seem to avail him with this. It was a dark problem indeed when Vows offered no real advice. The night was warm, but not yet that suffocating heat that would infuse the cabin during the summer nights. Sleeping underground would keep him cool enough during that time, but what about the boy? Dirk had not been all that eager to give up his last semblance of privacy nor had Lloyd been too keen on spending time in such pitch blackness; it had been one of the easier arrangements. Perhaps he could-

Dirk ran a callused hand down his face, stretching out the skin around his cheeks, and brushing out his beard. His thoughts could just run away with him sometimes. The boy was his, but not his. His to take care of, provide for, and shelter- but such alone did not make him a father. Lloyd, despite his young age, was little more than a stranger that shared his house. Like two planets they lived through the same day and while coming close to each other now and again, they never really interacted. Oh, he kept an eye on the lad and made sure he didn't entangle himself into too much trouble. He had also noticed- who couldn't?- the boy's deep depression, leaving Lloyd quieter than any small one usually was and still left deep fears trembling beneath the eyes and skin. They were not family; y'vows, they were not even the same species! As if that could not distance them enough, there was no possible way Dirk could even attempt to relate to how the boy must feel. His parents, so far as he knew, were both still alive and had managed to raise him to full adulthood. So, yes, he could not comprehend what it must be to have that love and stability suddenly ripped away and seemingly with no explanation, to be living in a strange environment with an unknown face.... How could Dirk possibly try to understand what it felt like? It just... it just seemed...

So very lonely.

Ah, now that... He craned his neck back to peer up at his ceiling, a bit disoriented at seeing the thin crevices of wood instead of the granular support of earth or stone. So much had changed from his previous life, but that was the way he had chosen. He had known that it would not be the same to be out on his own instead of surrounded by familiar faces and places, yet it had seemed worth it, like loneliness was as mere an inconvenience as a hard bed or dry food. Dirk didn't... didn't regret his choice per se. He still had the utmost faith- and stubbornness- that this lifestyle could yet yield countless bounties if he could just work his way to it. The empty house, the solitary hours- all were just a price to pay to get to what he wanted. However, he could understand the feeling of loneliness, could still recognize its hollow form when he met it.

The best way to counter loneliness wasn't necessarily just in words or actions. People speak, people act everyday. Dirk hadn't ignored the child after all, but there had been one aspect he- they both- had missed: presence. Basic mathematics really. The only way to get rid of a void was to fill it up.

Now that he had a basis of understanding, his actions came more naturally.

Gently, he lowered both hands palm down onto the boy's small back and created a loose hold over the tiny shoulders. He could feel, even through the blankets, the soft flesh and solid bones- the boy was so fragile.

The small one jumped at the feel of his hands, probably having assumed that he would have been left alone until morning. Still, the sensation of warm hands was familiar and the child instinctively leaned into the touch. He sat up slowly, resting his rump upon his hind legs and keeping the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Agate eyes, shaded red from the interrupted flood of tears, blinked up at him in confusion and fear. "Sssh," Dirk soothed, rubbing the boy's back. "The night is dark, but it will pass." It seemed to be the only prompting the child needed as the small face scrunched up again only to be hidden into Dirk's side as the boy tossed himself onto the dwarf's lap. Dirk was momentarily surprised and cautiously brought his arms closer, steadying the boy's weight as he continued to rub the small, trembling back.

Children did not seem to do anything neatly, not even cry. Lloyd was projecting more air out of his lungs than the dwarf could imagine would fit in that small body. No sooner had a breath been sucked in than it was shrieked out in trembling sobs and muttered gibberish. Tiny hands clutched at Dirk's coat and pant leg so tightly, so very tightly and it did not take long before the cloth beneath the boy's eyes became damp. It was such a racket, but such was the form of the grief of the young child. Humans seemed to prefer private, quiet displays of emotion, but this was much more Dwarven in style. Dwarfs knew that when one experienced loss, it must burst forth from the body for how else was one to resist the depression's possession? When one of the clan passed on, the very earth would tremble from the vibrations of the family's cries. So this Dirk understood and while he continued to repeat, "Sssh," it was not to silence the child, but instead to give comfort in the knowing that someone heard you, that not all was lost. Dirk could not bring forth Lloyd's mother and neither could he even snap some sense into the boy's so-called father; this was all he could do. Yet it pleased him, oddly made him glad that he was able to do this one small thing.

The wailing became more choked as the boy became less able to breathe through his nose. Sniffling was now the prevalent sound as Lloyd struggled to find a balance between his need for air and the want to continue his bereavement. His failure to do so made him whimper out of frustration and Dirk couldn't help but chuckle as he gently lifted the boy's chin up, reaching into the one pocket of his nightclothes and pulling out a spare piece of cloth. Agate eyes were even more red-rimmed, but there was now a stubborn quip to the mouth as the child tried to sniffle his nostrils clear. Still keeping a friendly arm wrapped around the boy's shoulders, Dirk spread the cloth across the palm of his other hand before introducing it to the boy's nose. The smaller brunette instantly tried to pull away, but the arm around his shoulders kept him from squirming too far. Dirk's thick fingers, more used to working with heavy tools, now squeezed gently on the pert nose. Lloyd gave a soft honk of surprise, but stilled as if any more movement would cause his nose to be torn off.

"Blow," Dirk commanded.

The child did not move except to move his agate eyes to look questioningly at the adult.

Odd... Had he accidentally said it in Dwarven? Dirk did not think so, but it was sometimes hard to keep track. "Blow," he repeated in Common. Again, nothing.

Dilemma.

Was he using the right word? He thought so. Granted, it was not a word he had used often before so perhaps there was another term he was unaware of? It was also a possibility- he continued to ponder as Lloyd began to work his nose free- that the child was too young and thus had not yet garnered a repertoire of vocabulary. "If only you spoke Dwarven," Dirk sighed, brown eyes looking at the child with pity. Agate eyes were starting to reflect a hint of annoyance. Only one thing for it then.

Feeling slightly silly, Dirk gave a long snort, trying to demonstrate the action he wanted the child to mimic. It took a few tries, but Lloyd eventually caught on to the idea and when he began to mimic it correctly and thus blow his nose, Dirk felt strangely proud. There might be hope for the two of them after all.

The next day found Dirk moving around rather stiffly, having fallen asleep against the wall by Lloyd's bed. He had told himself he would stay only until the boy had drifted off into sleep, but no sooner had the boy dozed off then he himself had slipped into dreams after him. It was slightly strange, but it was hard to feel embarrassed when the only witness was a small child. The daylight hours seemed unusually long as he continued to work on the assignments his clients from Iselia had asked for while still keeping an ear out for Lloyd, who as usual played outside with Noishe. Despite the night before, they seemed no closer than usual- until bedtime came.

It might have been a strange sight, had anyone else been able to witness it, that of dwarf and small child sitting side by side on a miniature bed. Dirk had just wanted to ensure that Lloyd would be able to sleep without nightmares but the small brunette seemed anxious about going to sleep again. A few minutes passed into an hour and Dirk felt as though he was sinking into a pool of awkwardness, the waters already lapping at his throat. With a sigh, he looked at the boy and asked, "What does it take to get you to bed?" However, it was worded in Dwarvish and the child had no answer save to blink shyly up at him. The dwarf sighed again and thought- mostly sarcastically- that it perhaps would have been too much to ask that the child he had found would have been a Dwarven. Oh well.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the sound of Lloyd talking. Or, at least, he assumed it was talking. Again, most of it sounded like Common, but it was all strung together and connected with made-up nonsense that Dirk could barely understand it. Also, unlike an adult, Lloyd did not chatter, not even in tone, but instead seemed to always mumble his words, never looking at the one he was talking to, and usually prodding some body part of his, this time being his toes. Dirk listened for a little while, despairing over the lack of any intelligent conversation in the near future, when some important thought must have entered Lloyd's head for the boy looked at him with solemn eyes and seemed to be repeating some sort of word.

"Pardon?" Dirk prompted.

Lloyd frowned and again said, "Dars."

No immediate meaning came to mind, so like any cultured adult, Dirk answered, "What?"

"Dars!"

"Dars?"

Looking just as frustrated as Dirk had been over trying to figure out how to explain the action of blowing one's nose, Lloyd tried to explain the best he could in the odd language that was his own. "Dars" was the word most repeated. Catching on that Dirk was no closer to understanding him; the child huffed and ran to the door. Startled, Dirk ran after him.

Lloyd knocked on the door and looked back at Dirk. "Dars!" he insisted.

"Door?" Dirk tried laying a hand on the wood barrier. "You want something with the door?"

Lloyd's mouth twisted as his eyebrows furrowed. There was more muttering under the breath before he began to pull at the door; he could not pry it open, however, with Dirk in the way. Sighing, he looked back up at his guardian and again said, "Dars! Dars!"

Not the door then. Outside maybe? Intrigued, Dirk went back, fetched the blanket, and then, with a firm grip on Lloyd, opened the door. A chilly breeze greeted them and his body naturally shivered, goosebumps rising up his arms and legs. For a moment, the dwarf thought this was a bad idea and wanted to scurry back into the house, but then the wind stilled and he found that while the air was still cool, it was not too crisp to stand. Letting his body adjust, Dwarven eyes took in his surroundings.

It was a beautiful night, with a calm air and bright moonlight. He supposed even human eyes would be able to see well in this illumination. The trees rustled but Dirk caught no sign of any trouble lurking nearby. Unless one counted that giant, mutated dog trouble and Dirk's judgment was still out on that. Noishe, still curled under a tree, lifted his head and perked his long ears up; the green and white tail swaying softly. "Dars!" Lloyd cheered and Dirk looked to see the child pointing up to the sky, nearly jumping on his heels. "Dars!" The dwarf tilted his head back and saw the shimmering carpet of lights the boy had tried to lead him to.

"Stars," he breathed out the proper Common word, now in full understanding.

Dwarf and child settled themselves against the side of the house; the blanket carefully tucked in around them both, and stared up at the sky. Looking fully content, Lloyd now became a little chatter-box, keeping up a constant stream of talking while pointing at different areas of the sky. Dirk made sure to mumble in response while inwardly wondering if perhaps one of the boy's parents had actually taken the time to point out constellations. He peered at the infinite stretch of lights and tried to discern some, but was forced to concede that he was no good at it. Oh well. Star gazing was said to be an elven thing anyway.

Still, this reminded him of something....

_If you be my star, I'll be your sky..._

Some sort of song. The kind sung in childhood days only stretch thin in memory from infrequent use. The tune was there though, in broken pieces that he could not remember the order of. He wanted to remember though and in his dreamy sort of efforts began to hum it. "_If you be my star, I'll be your sky_," he whispered, the words flowing now that he had stopped reaching for them. "_You can hide underneath me and come out at night. When I turn jet black and you show off your light_-" He shook his head suddenly, clearing it of melody and words. How odd he was acting!

When he looked down at Lloyd, the child had stopped talking in order to stare at his weird behavior. Dirk chuckled nervously before clearing his throat. "Enough stargazing," he declared before standing and scooping the boy into his arms. "Time for bed." His tone left no room for argument, but he could fee Lloyd peer over his shoulder.

"Dars," Lloyd called, a bit sadly.

"Stars tomorrow," Dirk insisted gently, heading back inside the house. "Sleep now." He deposited the child back in his bed and tucked him in once more. The short excursion seemed to satisfy the child as not a few moments later Lloyd was deep in sleep. Slowly, so as to not take any chances on perhaps waking him, Dirk straightened and stretched out his back, feeling ready for some fully sleep himself. He shuffled over to the cellar before pausing and then retracing his steps to the door. It was only he was sure the house was secure did he allow himself to head for bed.

_Kratos had returned from his nightly excursion to find that Kvar had nearly gone too far._

_While it bothered him little to be cooped up in a room for days on end- and indeed he could almost say that he was starting to enjoy it if only for company's sake-he made himself take time to go out and "smell the roses", figuratively speaking. It had been advice given a couple times by comrades whom he fully trusted. One had once been a comrade in arms, battle-scarred, sarcastic, and a red and black bird atop his shoulder; the other a gentle spirit he had fully believed in, kind and full of wisdom. If two such opposite people had insisted that it was important to take time to let the world stop, then he supposed there had to be some truth to that. So at night he would go and sit under the stars, which were beginning to feel as eternal as he was._

_But at this moment he was mocking himself for every calm and peaceful moment. Fool._

_The poor thing- woman- was curled up on her cot, shivering violently though the room's temperature remained at its constant. Her teeth even chattered with cold and even from the when he had first stepped back into the cell, sharp eyes had been able to discern beads of sweat upon her forehead. His first thought was to grind his teeth and curse Kvar for letting impatience getting the best of him. It was immediately obvious that the Desian leader had allowed his need for results to taint his judgment, perhaps carrying out routine experiments farther than was wise. His first successful specimen in decades and the man still had not learned any better._

_His second thought was so vague and foreign that he could not comprehend it. It took no heed of his preoccupied mind and instead took control of his hand and laid it upon the feverish brow. Or so he believed. Kratos was only conscious of his hand suddenly brushing away strands of hair with no memory of how it had gotten there. Growling under his breath about senility, he removed his hand and swept his gaze across the now familiar room for items he could use. _

_Kvar may have caused this, but Kratos was going to fix it._

… _Or at least, those had been his original noble sentiments. He certainly hadn't counted on getting bruises in the process. _

_Vulnerable as she looked it was easy to forget the fiery stubbornness that was innate in AO12. Though Kratos had only been trying to maneuver her into a position so he could more easily administer a draught, the feel of hands once more upon her sparked a self-preservation instinct that dived into her anger for fuel. All in all, though, it was a poetic way of explaining how he ended up with a fierce bite into his wrist and a solid smack on the nose for his troubles. It was a blind attack and hardly hurt since he was so quick to recover. Still, as he stared down at this creature he thought he had come to know, he was forced to reevaluate his opinion of her once more and was startled to see that she had changed._

_Whether it was the slight throbbing in his wrist that helped bring about some kind of focus or if it had been the first time in a long while he had actually looked her over, somehow the little things stood out to him. For example, she was no longer so small. The woman weakly- yet stubbornly- sitting up was not the same as the young lady he had first seen which made logical sense, as his mind so kindly informed him that it must have been years- not that he had noticed- since he had first come. Her hair was now longer and her body more mature in ways he was not able to pinpoint. In fact, it was awkward to be thinking about her like this at all. He had thought it harmless to like her, but now he started to realize that it should have never happened. _

_AO12 should have remained a specimen. _

_Pain glazed eyes stared back at him without recognition and he was oddly relieved to not have his study noticed. It took longer than he liked for realization to light up those eyes. She blinked once, then twice, and then sighed. "Sorry about your wrist," she mumbled, rubbing her arm. The action gave Kratos the chance to finally see the hand with the EXsphere since before she had kept it clutched tight to her chest; now he could see why. Her whole hand was red and slightly swollen and could see scratches tearing up the skin particularly around the gem. If her fever was being caused by some sort of infection than this was worse than Kratos thought._

"_It's nothing," he answered flippantly for indeed his mind was already busy analyzing this new problem. With one hand he eased her back down on the cot- it was often said that he had a masterful presence and he supposed it was that and her own exhaustion that made her more docile- and with the other he gently took hold of her EXsphere hand to take a better look. As far as the parasitic gem was concerned, the color was strong and not diminishing in the slightest. To Kvar's credit, this leaps ahead of anything the project had produced thus far. He momentarily contemplated the notion that Kvar might be tempted to harvest the item soon rather than risk complications later, but he pushed it away with a vigor that surprised him. Thus was Kvar's own worries; Kratos would instead work on saving the host._

_Easier said than done as it turned out._

File Two: SAVED~

_For Antiquity-Dreams, supernovadobe, and JereduLevenin-_

_For your support, your new friendships, and your encouragement._

_Welcome to the team!_


End file.
